I mean, the news said there were four bodies, so ...” She shrugged.

I tried to see around her and out the window at whatever was so interesting to her, but saw nothing more than a speed boat coming up Government Cut.

“This got here yesterday?” Deborah said. “In the regular mail?”

“It came in a plain envelope with a Miami postmark” the woman said. “It's on a plain disk just like the ones we have here in the office.

You can get them anywhere —Office Depot, Wal-Mart, whatever.” She said it with such disdain, and with such a lovely expression of true humanity on her face —something between contempt and indifference —that I had to wonder how she could make anyone like anything, let alone make millions of people want to come to a city partially inhabited by someone like her.

And as that thought clattered onto the floor of my brain and echoed across the marble, a small train chugged out of the Dexter Station and onto the tracks. For a moment I just watched the exhaust billow up out of the smoke stack, and then I closed my eyes and climbed on board.

“What?” Deborah demanded. “What have you got?” I shook my head and thought it through one more time. I could hear Deborah's fingers tapping on the table, and then the clatter of the remote as the short woman put it down, and the train finally came up to cruising speed and I opened my eyes. “What if” I said, “somebody wants negative publicity for Miami?”

“You said that already” Deborah snarled, “and it's still stupid.

Who could have a grudge against the whole fucking state?”

“But if it's not against the state?” I said. “What if it's only against the people who promote the state?” I looked pointedly at the short woman.

The?” the short woman said. “Somebody did this to get to me?” I was touched by her modesty and gave her one of my warmest fake smiles. “You, or your agency” I said.

She frowned, as if the idea of someone attacking her agency instead of herself was ridiculous. “Well” she said dubiously.

But Deborah slapped the table and nodded. “That's it” she said. “Now it makes sense. If you fired somebody, and they're pissed off.”

“Especially if they were a little bit off to begin with” I said.

“Which most of these artsy types are anyway” Deborah said. “So somebody loses their job, stews about it for a while, and hits back like this.” She turned to the short woman. “I'll need to see your personnel files.”

The woman opened and closed her mouth a few times and then started shaking her head. I can't let you see our files” she said.

Deborah glared at her for a moment and then, just when I was expecting her to argue, she stood up. I understand” she said. “Come on, Dex.” She headed for the door and I stood to follow.

“What —where are you going?” the woman called out.