“I’m here to question you with the purpose of establishing or eliminating you as a primary suspect. If you’ve committed this murder, you may incriminate yourself by answering my questions. I can’t compel you to answer.”

“He can,” Corwin said in his scratchy voice, nodding toward Curran.

“That’s between you and him. Just as long as we are clear that I can’t force you to cooperate.”

“We clear, sweetheart.”

I flashed him a smile. “The information you provide today is confidential but not privileged.”

“What do that means?”

“It means,” Curran said, “that she’ll keep it to herself but she’ll have to give it up if subpoenaed by court.”

“He’s right.” I looked at Corwin. “I must also warn you that if you murdered Greg Feldman, I’ll try my best to kill you.”

Corwin leaned back and a strange gurgling rumble emanated from his throat. A moment later I realized he was laughing.

“I understand,” he said, his irises shining with green.

“Let’s begin then. Have you taken any part, directly or indirectly, in the murder of Greg Feldman?”

“No.”

I hit all of the major points. He knew what was in the papers and nothing more. He had never met Greg or the vamp in question. He had no idea why anyone would try to kill them. He did not know who Ghastek was.

“Would you be willing to donate some tissue for an m-scan?” I asked finally.

“Tissue?”

“Blood, spit, urine, hair. Something I can scan.”

He leaned forward with a low murmur in his throat. “I could donate something to you. Something other than blood and spit.”

I leaned to him until our gazes crossed. “Thanks,” I said. “But I’m not available.”

“Mated?”

“No. Busy.”

“You won’t stay busy forever.”

On impulse I reached and scratched him under the chin. He closed his eyes and purred. “There are werecats,” I said.

“Yeeeees.” He turned to offer my fingers better access to his chin.

“And then there are cat-weres.”

His eyes opened just a tiny bit, and green shone through the slits.

“Born an animal . . .” I said.

“And now I am man,” he continued, turning again so my fingers would scratch a farther point on his jaw. “A man-lynx. I like to read. And human females are often in heat.”

“Do you still hunt among the trees when the moon is out, lynx?” I asked softly.

“Come to the Wood at night,” he said. “And you’ll find out.”

I sat back. “Do you have an m-scanner?”

“We have a portable,” Curran said.

“That will be fine.”

I waited until they brought the portable out. Even the portable scanner weighed over eighty pounds. A single woman carried it in and sat it in the corner, a large construction of metal and wood that resembled a sewing machine which had undergone a Celtic-warrior battle-warp. The woman examined it critically, picked it up with one hand and moved it a few inches farther from the wall. Strength was something the shapechangers had in abundance.