A hair over Milo's six three, he was broad, black, bespectacled. The suit was double-breasted and tailored to nearly conceal a gun bulge.

He gave a cursory nod. "Milo."

"Stan."

"And this is..."

"Dr. Delaware."

"Your psychologist."

"That makes it sound like I'm in therapy, Stan."

"Therapy's in fashion now, Milo. The department looks kindly on self-awareness and insight."

"Must have missed that memo."

A big hand extended. "Stanley Creighton, Doctor."

We shook.

Milo said, "What brings you down from Olympus, Stan?"

"More like Bunker Hill," said Creighton. "I'm here to keep an eye out."

"New clause in the captain's job description?"

Creighton said, "One does what one is told." He turned to me. "Speaking of which, Doctor, I appreciate what you do but you shouldn't be here."

"He's cleared for takeoff, Stan."

Creighton frowned. Cool morning but the back of his neck was moist ebony. "I must've missed that memo."

"Probably buried under a pile of wisdom from His Munificence."

Creighton flashed beautiful teeth. "Why don't you call him that to his face? Doctor, you really need to absent yourself."

"Stan, he really doesn't."

Creighton's smile degraded to something cold and menacing. "You're telling me you got papal dispensation for his presence at this specific crime scene?"

"Why would I improvise about that, Stan?"

"Why indeed," said Creighton. "Except for the fact that rationality doesn't always figure into human behavior. Which is why my wife, who has an M.D., still smokes a pack and a half a day."

"Feel free to call the Vatican to verify, Stan."

Creighton studied me. "Can I assume that Lieutenant Sturgis has informed you of the need for exceptional discretion here, Doctor?"

"Absolutely."

"Exceptional," he repeated.

"I love exceptions," I said.

"Why's that, Doctor?"

"They're a lot more interesting than rules."

Creighton tried to smile again. The result fit him like panty hose on a mastiff. "I respect what you do, Doctor. My wife's a neurologist, works with psychologists all the time. But now I'm wondering if Lieutenant Sturgis relies on you so not because of your professional skills, maybe it's more of a personality thing." Expanding his chest. "As in wiseass loves company."

Before I could answer he wheeled on Milo. "How much time are you going to need here?"

"Hard to say."

"I'm after a little more precision."

"C'mon, Stan--"

"You've already seen the crime scene pix, the body's long gone, the prints and fluid swabs are at the lab, and your vic's computer was lifted, so what do you expect to accomplish?"

No mention of the DVD.

Milo said, "Hell, Stan, why even bother to work when we can go on detective.com?"

"Yuk yuk yuk, ka-ching, rim shot," said Creighton. "Bottom line: There's nothing this place can tell you. Unless you're one of those paranormals, think you can feel vibrations."

"You were in my place you wouldn't do a walk-through?"