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Chapters (41)
  1. Dexter in the Darkby Jeff Lindsay
  2. IN THE BEGINNING
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. TWENTY-FOUR
  27. TWENTY-FIVE
  28. TWENTY-SIX
  29. TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. TWENTY-NINE
  32. THIRTY
  33. THIRTY-ONE
  34. THIRTY-TWO
  35. THIRTY-THREE
  36. THIRTY-FOUR
  37. THIRTY-FIVE
  38. THIRTY-SIX
  39. THIRTY-SEVEN
  40. THIRTY-EIGHT
  41. THIRTY-NINE

And so the reaction that won out was irritation at all the bother this was going to cause. Still, Harry had schooled me well enough to know that this is not really an acceptable reaction to display when one hears of the death of an acquaintance. So I did my best to push my face into something resembling shock, concern, and distress. "Wow," I said. "I had no idea. Do they know who did it?"

Vince shook his head. "The guy had no enemies," he said, and he didn't seem aware of how unlikely his statement sounded to anyone who had ever met Manny. "I mean, everybody was just in awe of him."

"I know," I said. "He was in magazines and everything."
"I can't believe anybody would do that to him," he said.
In truth, I couldn't believe it had taken so long for somebody to do that to him, but it didn't seem like the politic thing to say. "Well, I'm sure they'll figure it out. Who's assigned to the case?"

Vince looked at me like I had asked him if he thought the sun might come up in the morning. "Dexter," he said wonderingly, "his head was cut off. It's just like the three over at the university." When I was young and trying hard to fit in, I played football for a while, and one time I had been hit hard in the stomach and couldn't breathe for a few minutes. I felt a little bit like that now.

"Oh," I said. "So naturally they've given it to your sister," he said.

"Naturally." A sudden thought hit me, and because I am a lifelong devotee of irony, I asked him, "He wasn't cooked, too, was he?"

Vince shook his head. "No," he said.
I stood up. "I better go talk to Deborah," I said.

Deborah was not in any mood to talk when I arrived at Manny's apartment. She was bending over Camilla Figg, who was dusting for prints around the legs of the table by the window. She didn't look up, so I peeked into the kitchen, where Angel-no-relation was bent over the body.

"Angel," I said, and I found some difficulty believing my eyes, so I asked him, "Is that really a girl's head there?" He nodded and poked at the head with a pen. "Your sister says, prolly the girl from the Lowe Museum," he said. "They put it here because this guy is such a bugero."