Very well, then. I would get a sample. I went to a safe built into the south wall of my office. I’m not Peter Wimsey and I don’t carry a complete police lab around with me, but I do have some of the rudiments, like chemicals to test for the presence of blood. And some self-sealing plastic pouches to put samples in. I had a Timothy Custom Utility Knife in there, so I took that along. With a three-inch blade, it wasn’t meant as a weapon but a tool, its razor-honed blade ideal for cutting up a piece of deck or carpet or something containing the evidence. My picklocks and a magnifying glass completed my gear.

I emptied everything out of my shoulder bag, put my driver’s license and my detective ID in my pocket with some money and stuck the detective equipment in the zippered side compartment. Back to Grant Park for my car, which cost me fifteen dollars to retrieve. I wasn’t sure I was going to remember all my expenses for submitting a bill to Boom Boom’s estate. I needed to be more methodical in recording them.

It was after four when I reached the Edens Expressway. I kept the speedometer at sixty-five all the way to the tollway. Traffic was heavy with the first wash of northbound executives from the city and I kept pace with the cars in the fast lane, not risking a ticket and the delays that would bring me.

At five I exited onto route 137 and headed toward the lake. Instead of turning south on Green Bay for Lake Bluff, I went on to Sheridan Road and turned left, following the road up to the Great Lakes Naval Station.

A guard was on duty at the main entrance to the base. I gave my most vivacious smile, trying hard not to look like a Soviet spy. “I’m Niels Grafalk’s niece. He’s expecting me to join a party down at the Brynulf Nordemark.”

The guard consulted a list in the booth. “Oh. That’s the private boat the admiral lets the guy keep here. Go on in.”

“I’m afraid this is my first time up here. Can you give me directions?”

“Just follow this road down to the docks. Then turn left. You can’t miss it—it’s the only private sailboat down there.” He gave me a permit in case anyone asked me any questions. I wished I was a Soviet spy—this would be an easy place to get into.

I followed the winding road past rows of stark barracks. Sailors were wandering around in groups of two or three. I passed a few children, too. I hadn’t realized that families lived on the base.