“Yeah, it is,” she said. “I was raised an Episcopalian, but I stopped going to church the day I sprouted pubic hairs. I don’t believe in it at all. But every once in a while, when I’m all alone in bed—a rare occasion if I can help it—I get to thinking, what if I’m wrong? What if all that crap they fed me at Sunday school turns out to be right? Then I get real spooked.

“Rina has it made,” Marge went on. “Even with all the restrictions. If she’s wrong and there’s no one up there, she’ll be dead anyway and won’t know the difference. But if she’s right…man, she’s hit the jackpot.”

“Do you want to come in for a nightcap?” Hennon asked, flicking on the lights to the apartment.

“Sure,” Decker replied.

Her condo was comfortable, full of soft colors, a pillowy sofa and plants sprouting from terra-cotta pots.

“Have a seat,” Hennon said. “What can I get you?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Decker answered.

“Take off your jacket. Make yourself comfortable.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

He removed his jacket and holster and stretched. Looking around he saw the bathroom. A few minutes later he came out to find her pointing his .38 at one of her Boston ferns.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked irritatedly. She lowered the gun.

“I just wanted to see what it felt like being behind one of these.” She smiled. “God, you feel so invincible.”

He didn’t smile back. Walking over to her, he gingerly took the revolver from her hands.

“It’s loaded, Annie. You shouldn’t be fooling around with a loaded gun,” he said, placing the gun back in the shoulder harness.

“Sorry,” she shrugged. “Coffee’s ready.”

He sank into a brown chair, irked. Not only had she done something dumb, she’d violated his personal property.

Returning with a tray, she set it on the coffee table.

“Cream or sugar?” she asked.

“Black.”

“That’s right,” she said. Handing him a mug, she parked herself across the table.

“You use your gun a lot?” she asked.

“As little as possible.”

“It gives you a sense of power, doesn’t it?”

“Not really.” He forced a smile. “Can we change the subject?”

She frowned.

“Okay. What’s the weirdest case you ever were on?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, Annie, but I don’t want to talk about my work. If you want to talk about dentistry—”

“God, no.”

“So you understand—”

“Yeah, but my work is so damn boring.”

“So’s mine. Believe me.”

“The bones case is boring?”

“The bones case is frustrating!” He lit a cigarette. “Do you have an ashtray handy?”

“Not really. I’m allergic to cigarette smoke.”

“You didn’t say anything at the restaurant.”

“I was trying to be polite.”

Decker stared at his smoke.

“Where can I throw this?”