When I stopped, Everard said coldly, “And then what?”

“And then I need your word of honor as a whatever you most honor that you will not feed the tech to the KC cops, Colonel Baggetto, Marlon Pinsen, Gisborne, or your own revered lieutenant.”

“Not if you’re concealing evidence of a crime,” the sergeant growled.

“I’m not concealing any crimes. They’re all right out in the open where anyone who cares can see them.”

Everard rocked back and forth on his toes. It takes serious strength in the soleus muscle to do that in thick-soled shoes.

At length he said, “How can a stranger to these parts team up with an unknown lab tech in less than a week? I’ll give you this: I’ll let the tech go, but if you’re covering up a crime, I’ll feed you to the sheriff, the colonel, and all those other people. I’ll even add salt so you go down more tasty.”

My hands were freezing. I jammed them into my jeans pockets. “Someone broke into Roque’s home, in between his leaving for Topeka on Thursday morning and Saturday night, which is when the tech discovered it. She went over to rescue his cat—she always fed it when he was out of town. She had a key. She’d forgotten the cat in her grief and misery. She called me.”

“And?” Everard eyed me measuringly, testing my story in his mind. All true, just not necessarily in that sequence, but it made me feel and therefore sound solid as a rock.

“I gather that the damage was impressive enough that she couldn’t tell if anything was missing, except his home computer. But the last three incoming calls on his home phone were from Hitchcock. When I learned that, it made me think Roque consulted with Hitchcock—they shared a passion for collecting rocks, geodes, the tech said. I was hoping Hitchcock could tell me what Roque said, maybe even that he had Doris McKinnon’s dirt. If the lab has been declared a hazmat site, it’s a cinch that Roque sent the dirt to Hitchcock. Something’s in it that Colonel Baggetto or AKA Pinsen knows is toxic. Let me stress that I have no idea if it is or isn’t.”

Everard spoke into his lapel phone. A voice squawked something back, and he pulled out his cell phone. After a minute I could see messages scrolling on his screen.

“KC confirms the break-in, says they got an anonymous tip. You know anything about that, Warshawski?”

“No, Sergeant.” Liars are voluble; I kept my smart add-ons to myself.

“Kansas City sure as sin doesn’t need any help from the Lawrence cops, who are overworked anyway, so I’ll leave that dog lay.”