“What the hell are you doing here?”

It was Eduardo, in shorts and a tank top, all traces of his make up washed away.

He was smiling, an icy smile that turned my palms slick with sweat.

“Oh, hi, Eduardo.” My voice was a frightened squeak. “I came back to buy one of your paintings. I talked it over with my fiancé, and we thought the one with the dead fetus would look great over our fireplace.”

I took a step backwards, but he grabbed my arm. He was much stronger than he looked.

“Nice try,” he said, still smiling that icy smile, “but I don’t believe you.”

“No, really. I rang the bell but I guess it isn’t working. I figured you were in your studio so I came around the side of the house.”

He looked down at the planter, then up at the window.

“You saw me, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tightened his painful grip on my arm.

“I guess you must know my little secret.”

“What little secret? I came here to buy a painting.”

“Okay then, why don’t we go out to the studio?” he said, dragging me towards his garage.

Oh, God. I thought of all those awful paintings, the dead fetuses, the disemboweled corpses. This was a sick man.

“We’ve got a problem here,” he said, yanking me along, “and we’ve got to solve it. I can’t have you telling the world the truth about me, can I?”

I started to scream, but he clamped his hand over my mouth. I could smell faint traces of perfume on his wrist.

Why hadn’t I listened to Lt. Webb? Why hadn’t I given up on this ridiculous investigation and minded my own business? I could’ve killed myself for being such a jerk, only I had a feeling Eduardo was about to do it for me.

“What’s going on here?”

I looked up and saw two cops coming towards us.

Reluctantly, Eduardo let go of me.

“Thank God you’ve come!” I said, practically hurling myself into their arms.

For those of you keeping track of the many police officers who seemed to be cropping up in my life, these two were named Washington and Ramirez. Ramirez was a tough looking Hispanic guy, and Washington was an even tougher looking black woman. She made Officer Schmitt look like Calista Flockheart.

“Am I glad to see you,” Eduardo said, his icy smile turning cordial. “This woman was trying to break into my house.”

“That’s what we thought,” Ramirez said. “The lady next door reported a burglary in progress. Said someone was trying to climb in the back window.”

Great. Just great. Where was this lady yesterday while someone was climbing in my window?

“That’s right,” Eduardo said. “I apprehended her, and I was just about to call 911.”

“That’s not true!” I cried. “He was just about to kill me, that’s what he was about to do. This man is a killer!”