“Isolate Cherish and talk to her. Don’t mention the murders right off, tell her you know about Valerie’s abortion and that you suspect Drew was the father. She might be willing to acknowledge her suspicions about the molestations or even go all the way and talk about Kristal.”

“If she’s so intent upon clearing herself, why didn’t she come forward after Rand was murdered?”

“Like Rand, she’s living under the same roof with Drew. Maybe she’s worried she doesn’t have enough evidence to ensure he’d be put away.”

“Makes sense,” he said. “But we’ve left something out: Cherish and Malley. If he’s her squeeze, why wouldn’t she tell him? And if she did, why didn’t he cooperate with me? Something’s still wrong with the picture, Alex. I’m not ready to put Barnett or Cherish on the good-guy list.”

“We know what list Drew’s on and he’s living with eight underage girls. Then there’s Miranda.”

“I am not unaware of the exigencies.”

“Didn’t mean to imply you weren’t.”

“Let me sleep on this. So to speak. In the morning, I’ll get Binchy to watch the Daney house really early, which ain’t gonna be a snap, Galton Street being so quiet. If Cherish leaves first, Sean’ll follow her and hand her off to me. If Drew leaves, Sean’ll stay on him and I’ll pay Cherish a little visit.”

“Either way, let me know.”

“You might very well be there.”

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 41

The doorbell, followed by spirited knocking, woke me at seven a.m. My clouded brain knew what was happening: Allison had come by before work, wanting to make up.

I stumbled out of bed, padded to the door in my boxers, flung it open with a welcoming smile.

Milo stood there, wearing a tired green blazer, gray cords, yellow shirt, brown tie. In one hand was a box of Daffy Donuts, in the other two extra-large cups of the same outlet’s coffee. He squinted at me as if I were a rare and unsavory species.

“Revenge?” I said.

“For what?”

“Last night’s wake-up call.”

“Huh— oh, that. No, I was just dozing in the chair. Stayed up till three, working over a bunch of scenarios.”

He stepped past me. I left him in the kitchen and put on a robe. When I returned, the box was open, revealing a jarringly vivid assortment of fried things. Milo’s paw was wrapped around a coffee. He’d made admirable progress on a bear claw the size of a puppy.

Same thing he’d ingested during the second meeting with Drew Daney and I said so.

“Yeah, I was inspired,” he said, spewing crumbs. “Give grease its due.” He pointed at the other cup. “Drink and awaken, lad.”

“Daffy instead of Dipsy?”

“My local purveyor, indie outfit. I’m doing my bit for free enterprise.”