“I have. Not lately. My last one was a sequel to Missionary, but it didn’t get a whole lot of attention. That, and getting back into a mortgage, since we moved back downtown from Oakwood, meant getting a job at the Metropolitan.”

“That’s a shame, not being able to realize your goals and all.”

Don’t let him mess with your head, I told myself. Just let it go. “Sure,” I said.

“I mean, not that you aren’t doing okay. A good job with a big paper, until, well, yesterday, when you got suspended. They still paying you while you’re suspended?”

“Yes. At least, I think so.”

“You got a union?”

“Yes.”

“You should talk to them.”

“I probably should. There’s been so much going on, I haven’t really had a moment to think about it.”

“So you really don’t think your friend, Ms. Snelling, had anything to do with Mr. Benson’s death?”

It was like watching a one-man ping-pong game. Flint had the ball moving so fast I could barely keep track of it.

“I, I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, even if Trixie had wanted to kill Benson, the time to do it would have been before his story and the picture of her ran in the paper.”

“What do you suppose he was doing there?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was looking for an even better story. An exclusive on Trixie’s basement.”

Flint gave a satisfied nod, like this was his line of thinking too. I tried not to be obvious as I took another look at the clock.

“You sure you don’t have to be someplace?” Flint asked.

“No,” I said. “It’s fine.” God, I’d barely glanced at it.

“So, that’s quite the basement Ms. Snelling has,” Flint said.

“I suppose,” I said. “I think, if I had that kind of space in my basement, I’d build a model train layout.”

Flint actually chuckled. “Yeah, I love those. With the flashing signals, the crossings that come down. Did Ms. Snelling ever do anything to you in that basement of hers?”

“No. You asked me this before. We’re friends, that’s all.”

“Some friend. Leaving you handcuffed in the same room with a corpse and all. You got any extra friends like that I could have?”

“I guess she had her reasons.”

“You ever check out all the equipment she has in that basement? Straps and whips and all that stuff?”

“I certainly saw it hanging on the walls, but it’s not like I did an inventory.”

“Some men, they get off on being tortured, spanked, that sort of thing.”

I said nothing.

“But you wonder, how far would some guys like for Ms. Snelling to go?”

“I don’t think anyone would want to have his throat slit, if that’s what you’re asking.”