“Doggie,” North said, although the joke was fucking sour all of a sudden.

“Tarzan.”

“You guys are a laugh riot,” Barr said, stepping back.

“What’s Tarzan?” Reck said, following.

“Oh, Tucker told me North invented it. It’s kind of like cowgirl only you have to start—”

“Can we help you with something, officers?”

“Detectives,” Reck said.

“Is there a difference?” Shaw asked, those delicate eyebrows shooting up.

Reck opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Barr said, “Let’s see some ID.”

They passed it over. Barr studied it, passed it to Reck, and said to Shaw, “You’re a private detective.”

“Yes, sir. We both are.”

“Where’s his license?”

“Gee,” North said, “I must have left it in my other purse.”

Barr didn’t so much as look at him.

“It’s currently suspended,” Shaw said. “I’m the active investigator; he’s providing support.”

“He wouldn’t be wandering off, doing work on his own, would he? That could cause all sorts of complications.”

“Don’t worry,” North said. “He doesn’t even let me go to the bathroom without explicit instructions.”

“I bet,” Barr said, still not looking at North.

“Why are you here?” Reck said.

“I like the view,” North said.

“I’m thinking of moving,” Shaw said.

“I was going to do some shopping.”

“I’m going for a run in Forest Park.”

“My dog-sitter lives in the building.”

“I come here to clip toenails for elderly shut-ins.”

North almost slipped at that one, and he had to shoot Shaw his I’m very impressed look and mouth clip toenails.

“You two think you’re fucking hilarious,” Reck said.

Barr, however, was considering them. He still gave ninety percent of his attention to Shaw, but he offered North a cursory glance. “Detective Reck and I are lead investigators for the Metropolitan PD LGBT task force. If I tell you we’re interested in finding Mark Sevcik, does that motivate you to stow the whole Cheech-and-asshole routine?”

North and Shaw exchanged a glance. Working with cops was a delicate operation, but the chance of getting an in with the LGBT task force was huge. Shaw’s refined features, the sharp triangle of cheekbones and jaw, worked for a moment, and then he said, “I can’t go into all of it, but yes, we’re looking for Sevcik too.”

“Why?”

Shaw shook his head. “Information.”

“Blackmail?”

The word dropped like a grenade. Shaw, for all of his hemp pants and Lululemon shirts, had an amazing poker face; North hoped he did half as well at covering his own shock.

After a moment, when neither man responded, Barr said, “Fine. You’ve got a responsibility to your client, and I can respect that. For now, let’s just play the game like we both agree it’s blackmail.” Barr took a breath. “So I’ll say this once, just to be really clear: if your client is a victim of a criminal offense, he’d be better served by going to the police. If he’s hired you to take care of Sevcik or to return so-called stolen property, you’d be a lot smarter to give him his money back and let the courts handle it. Are we clear on that?”