"You're just loving this, aren't you? I'm in a spot where I can't kick your ass with my customary aim and fervor." To me: "I told Charlie apply to Harvard for early acceptance, it's nonbinding, he'll have a fallback. No, he said, that wouldn't be fair to kids who really want to go to Harvard. Guess what the average acceptance rate was last year at the big three--H, Y, and Princeton? Six fucking percent and this year's going to be worse because of the baby boom. Charlie's got over a 4.0 when you factor in APs and honors courses and he scored 1540 on the SAT, only took it once. Sounds like a shoo-in, right? Forget that fairy tale."

I said, "Sounds like he's a strong applicant on his own and being your kid--and your wife's--should help him."

"Why?"

"You're famous."

He jabbed his chest. "If I was a brain-dead actor with a brain-dead kid, I'd be famous. To those twits I'm a right-wing social climber--and don't think politics doesn't play into it. Yeah, Charlie's brilliant but I'm not booking advance flights to New Haven under the best of circumstances. Now I've got this. That stupid DVD, then she actually goes and gets herself killed. Give the twits an excuse to pass over my kid for some some Hamas engineering whiz from Gaza who they can teach to build better fucking bombs and they'll jump at it."

I said, "So you don't see it as a suicide?"

"Body's packed in ice but no bags on the scene, vic's computer's missing, she's already given advance warning people are out to get her? Why the hell would I see it as a suicide--oh, Jesus." Sharp laughter. "You geniuses actually thought I was gonna push suicide on you? Turn this into some fucking Ice-Gate? Give me a break, I went to fucking Harvard."

He resumed eating. When Milo said, "Sir," he was waved into silence.

Milo tried again, two bites later: "So I'll be able to do my job as I see fit?"

"Now," said the chief, "you're sounding paranoid. Maybe you're the wrong guy for this case, seeing as it has psychological overtones."

"Even paranoiacs have enemies," said Milo.

"If they're assholes, they have a whole bunch." The chief's face flushed but a tirade was cut short by the arrival of our food.

My burger was dry and I put it aside.

Milo feasted.

When he'd cleared half his platter, he inhaled and put his fork down. "Sir, apologies for any offense, but I'm still not clear what's expected of me."