"For Christ's sake, Dexter," Deborah said. "OGA just means other government agency. There's no such agency, it's an in-joke."

"Nice to be in at last," I said. "And you can still get access to their files?" He shrugged. "Technically I'm on convalescent leave," he said. "From doing what?" I asked.

He gave me a mechanical smile. "You don't really want to know," he said. "The point is, they haven't decided yet whether I'm any fucking good anymore." He looked at the fork clamped in his steel hand, turning his arm over to see it move. "Shit," he said.

And because I could feel that one of those awkward moments was upon us, I did what I could to move things back onto a sociable footing. "Didn't you find anything at the kiln?" I asked. "Some kind of jewelry or something?"

"What the fuck is that?" she said.
"The kiln," I said. "Where the bodies were burned."
"Haven't you been paying attention? We haven't found where the bodies were burned."
"Oh," I said. "I assumed it was done right there on campus, in the ceramic studio."

By the suddenly frozen look on her face, I realized that either she was experiencing massive indigestion or she did not know about the ceramic studio. "It's just half a mile from the lake where the bodies were found," I said. "You know, the kiln. Where they make pottery?"

Deborah stared at me for a moment longer, and then jumped up from the table. I thought it was a wonderfully creative and dramatic way to end a conversation, and it took a moment before I could do more than blink after her.

"I guess she didn't know about that," Chutsky said.
"That's my first guess," I said. "Shall we follow?"

He shrugged and speared the last chunk of his steak. "I'm gonna have some flan, and a cafecita. Then I'll get a cab, since I'm not allowed to help," he said. He scooped up some rice and beans and nodded at me. "You go ahead, unless you want to walk back to work."

I did not, in fact, have any desire to walk back to work. On the other hand, I still had almost half a milk shake and I did not want to leave that, either. I stood up and followed, but I softened the blow by grabbing the uneaten half of Deborah's sandwich and taking it with me as I lurched out the door after her.

Soon we were rolling through the front gate of the university campus. Deborah spent part of the ride talking on the radio and arranging for people to meet us at the kilns, and the rest of the ride clenching her teeth and muttering.