“She woke me at six, was spewing like I’ve never heard her. I told her it hadn’t come from me, she said she didn’t believe me, I said feel free to waste time investigating. Then she started in on how it was my responsibility to muzzle my witness and I said last I heard gag orders came from judges.”

He put the paper away. “The one who’s really got steam coming out of her ears is that Times gal, LeMasters. She left a message an hour ago using naughty words and accusing me of allowing this august publication to scoop her, probably because I have a kid who goes there.”

He went to the fridge, searched a top shelf.

I said, “Any tips come in?”

“Nothing serious yet, and I don’t think there will be unless Flower Dress’s picture goes public. Still waiting to hear back from Maria on that.”

He tried a lower tier. “What’s with you guys, no leftovers?”

“We’ve been eating out.”

“Not even a doggie bag? Oh, yeah, that’s not a dog, it’s an alien princess who won’t touch her foie gras unless it’s been consecrated by a celebrity chef. Am I right about that, mademoiselle?”

Blanche trotted up to him, cocked her head to the side.

Grumbling about his back, he bent low to rub behind her ears. She rolled over and exposed her belly. He murmured something about “Entitlement.” She purred. “Nice to see my charm transcends gender.”

I said, “She’s a happy girl. Had lamb chop leftovers last night.”

“Don’t gloat, Dr. De Sade.” He foraged some more, returned with a half pint of cottage cheese and a bottle of KC Masterpiece Original Barbecue Sauce that he glurped directly into the container, concocting a mélange that evoked something you’d find at a shotgun homicide.

Three tablespoons later: “Got the DNA results on everything. Nothing in the old bones, too degraded, but plenty in the new bones: The baby’s mommy had some African American heritage so Flower Dress wasn’t her. So much for the mother-child-bad-daddy theory. Any suggestions?”

“Nothing that would make you feel better.”

“Try me.”

“Take away the family angle and you could have an offender who murders all kinds of people for motives you won’t understand until you catch him.”

“A pleasure killer,” he said. “Gets off on amateur taxidermy. I was hoping you wouldn’t say that, knew you would.” His eyes dropped to the cottage cheese container. He downed another spoonful of clotted red soup. First time I’d seen him grimace after ingesting anything.

Dumping the mixture in the trash, he drank water from the tap. “So what’s my plan, just wait and hope this nutcase screws up on the next one?”

“You could put the park under surveillance.”

“You think he’d actually go back?”

“Nothing succeeds like success.”