Randall's head raised an inch. His fists began grinding into his skull. The stocking cap was filthy. The hand slipped down a bit and I saw that the skin around his temples was red and raw, scabbed in places.

I said, "If there's anything-"

"How did it happen?" said Grandpa Holtzmann. "Was she shot? If so, was it a handgun or a long gun?"

"She wasn't shot," said Dollard. "And that's all you need to-"

"Stabbed, then?" said Holtzmann.

"What does it matter, Holtzmann?"

"Well," said the old man, "if we're to be of assist-"

Chet said, "The modus is always a clue signature profile-wise psychological penmanship so to speak to squeak-"

"Was she stabbed?" said Holtzmann, pressing forward so that the desk bit into his trunk.

"Holtzmann," said Dollard, "there's no reason for-"

"She was stabbed!" the old man exclaimed. "Fileted to the bone, hallelujah!" Working at his zipper with both hands, he exposed himself, began masturbating frantically. Singing out in a fine rich baritone: "Stabbed, stabbed, stabbed, glory be! Gut the bitch in pieces three!"

Dollard took him roughly by the shoulders and shoved him toward the door.

To us, "You, too. Out. Meeting over."

As we exited, Chet shouted, "Wait I've solved it cherchez la femme cherchez la femme-!"

Outside, Dollard locked the door to the annex and handed Holtzmann over to the other two techs. The old man simpered but looked thrilled.

The taller tech said, "Tuck yourself in. Now."

Holtzmann obeyed, dropped his hands to his side.

"Nice to meet you." Kindly Grandpa again. "Mr. Dollard, if I've offended-"

"Don't say another damn word," Dollard ordered him. To the techs: "Keep them in there while I deal with these two. I'll send Mills back to help you."

The techs moved Holtzmann to the wall, had him face the stucco. "Don't budge, old man." Pointing at the door, one of them said, "They okay in there, Frank?"

"Chet Bodine's running his mouth like a broken toilet and Jackson's ticked at him. At Randall, too-he's doing the Aryan crap."

"Really?" said the tech lightly. "Haven't heard that in a while, thought we had it under control."

"Yeah," said Dollard. "Something must have tensed them all up."

When we were back at the main building, he said, "Now, that was a good expenditure of taxpayers' money."

Milo said, "I want to see Peake."

"And I want to fuck Sharon Stone-"

"Take me to Peake, Frank."

"Oh, sure, just like that. Who the hell do you think-" Again, Dollard checked his anger. Chuckled. "That requires authorization, Detective. Meaning Mr. Swig, and, like I said, he's not-"

"Call him," said Milo.

Dollard bent one leg. "Because you order me to do it?"