Angie reached for her coat and he motioned for her to turn her back to him. She grimaced, but did so, and Julian slid her coat up her arms and over her back.

“I see a man,” he said as he reached into the closet for my jacket, “who towered over other men, who towered over industry and finance and every world he chose to place his foot upon. A man whose footfalls caused trembling. And respect. Utmost respect.”

He held out my jacket and I stepped into it, smelled the clean, cool scent of his cologne. It wasn’t a brand I recognized, but somehow I knew it was out of my price range anyway.

“How long have you been with him, Julian?”

“Thirty-five years, Mr. Kenzie.”

“And the Weeble?” Angie said.

Julian gave her a thin smile. “That would be Mr. Clifton?”

“Yes.”

“He has been with us for twenty years. He was Mrs. Stone’s valet and personal secretary. Now he helps me with property upkeep and maintenance, attending to Mr. Stone’s business interests when Mr. Stone himself is too tired.”

I turned to face him. “What do you think happened to Desiree?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. I only hope it’s nothing irreparable. She’s a divine child.”

“And Mr. Becker?” Angie said.

“How do you mean, Miss?”

“The night he disappeared he was en route to this house. We checked with the police, Mr. Archerson. There were no reports of any disturbances or strange incidents along Route One-A that night. No car accidents or abandoned vehicles. No cab companies which drove a fare to or toward this address at the time in question. No rental cars rented to a Jay Becker that day, and his own car is still parked in his condo parking lot.”

“And this leads you to assume?” Julian said.

“We have no assumptions,” I said. “Just feelings, Julian.”

“Ah.” He opened the door for us and the air that flowed into the foyer was arctic. “And those feelings tell you what?”

“They tell us someone’s lying,” Angie said. “Maybe a lot of someones.”

“Food for thought. Yes.” Julian tipped his head. “Good evening, Mr. Kenzie, Miss Gennaro. Do drive carefully.”

“Up is down,” Angie said as we drove over the Tobin Bridge and the lights of the city skyline spread before us.

“What?” I said.

“Up is down. Black is white. North is south.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Do you want to pull over and let me drive?”

She shot me a look. “This case,” she said. “I’m starting to get the feeling everyone’s lying and everyone has something to hide.”

“Well, what do you want to do about it?”

“I want to stop taking anything at face value. I want to question everything and trust no one.”

“Okay.”

“And I want to break into Jay Becker’s place.”

“Now?” I said.

“Right now,” she said.