“It’s pretty basic,” said Gurney. “I’m wondering if Dr. Holdenfield, a very insightful psychotherapist, feels that the writer of this message was expressing an authentic emotion of his own, or was he, in a way, putting words in the mouth of a fictional character he’d invented—the so-called Good Shepherd.”

Trout looked at Bullard. “Lieutenant, we can’t spend the whole day on this kind of eccentric theorizing. This is your meeting. I’d urge you to exert some control over the agenda.”

Gurney continued to hold the psychologist’s gaze. “Simple question, Rebecca. What do you think?”

She took a long time before replying. “I’m not sure.”

Gurney sensed, finally, some honesty in Holdenfield’s eyes and in her answer.

Bullard looked troubled. “David, a couple of minutes ago, you used the phrase ‘purely practical’ in relation to the Good Shepherd. What kind of purely practical motive could prompt a killer to choose six victims whose main connection with one another is that they were driving extravagant cars?”

“Extravagant black Mercedes cars,” corrected Gurney, more to himself than to her—The Man with the Black Umbrella coming once again to mind. Referring to the plot of a movie during the discussion of a real crime was risky, especially in unfriendly company, but Gurney decided to go ahead. He recounted how the snipers were stymied in their pursuit of the man with the umbrella when he was immersed in a crowd of people with similar umbrellas.

“What the hell’s the connection between that story and what we’re here to talk about?” It was Daker’s first comment at the table.

Gurney smiled. “I don’t know. I just have the feeling that there is one. I was hoping someone in the room might be perceptive enough to see it.”

Trout rolled his eyes.

Bullard picked up the e-mail in which Gurney had listed his questions about the murders. Her eyes stopped halfway down the page, and she read aloud. “ ‘Were they all equally important?’ ” She looked around the table. “That strikes me as an interesting question in the context of the umbrella story.”

“I don’t see the relevance,” said Daker.

Bullard’s eyes were blinking again, as though clicking off possibilities. “Suppose not all the victims were primary targets.”

“And the ones that weren’t—what were they? Mistakes?” Trout’s expression was incredulous.

Gurney had already explored that avenue with Hardwick, and it had led to scenarios too unlikely to take seriously. “Not mistakes,” said Gurney. “But secondary, in some way.”

“Secondary?” repeated Daker. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s still just a question.”

Trout let his hands fall on the table with a bang. “I’ll only say this once. There comes a time in every investigation when we have to stop questioning the basics and concentrate on the pursuit of the perpetrator.”