Giselle reached over and took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the punk kid’s pocket. She tapped a cigarette from the pack, lit it, and slid the pack and lighter back where she’d found them. “You have any questions for me?” said Giselle.

Bayliss thought for a minute. “I know I should, but I’m a little overwhelmed. I wasn’t even sure Marilyns were real or just another DOPS rumor . . . like aliens in the basement.”

“Yes,” said Giselle, looking away. “Rumors.” She puffed the cigarette, crossed her legs, and relaxed back against the chair. “Look, I know as far as introductions go, this is a strange one. But the next time we meet will be a lot more normal now that we’ve had a chance to chat without the department or Prince Charming over there breathing down our necks.”

“So, this isn’t an official visit?” said Bayliss. The cigarette smoke made her want to sneeze, but she didn’t want to in front of Giselle. The other woman seemed to have so much on the ball that Bayliss figured that she should at least be able to breathe right. She rubbed her nose with her index finger and smiled weakly.

“Sorry,” said Giselle. She dropped the cigarette and crushed it under her heel. “That was rude. I’m trying to quit, but it just makes me want them even more.” She waved a hand in the air to disperse the smoke. Bayliss took a plantain chip. It was good. A lot better than the burrito, though a dishrag full of frijoles would be better than the burrito, she thought. She took another plantain.

“So, are we going to be working together or something?” she said.

Giselle shrugged. “That all depends on the powers that be. But there’s an Abaddon cult kicking up a fuss. The big brains might want someone to check them out.”

“Great. I’ll read up on them.”

“No, you won’t. Not yet. You’ve never heard of them. Or me. I just stepped outside for a smoke and you’re having lunch with your partner and no one knows anything about anything. Comprende?”

“Got it,” said Bayliss. “So what happens now? Are you going to disappear in a puff of smoke and wipe my memory?”

“No. Nothing like that,” said Giselle. She and Bayliss looked at Nelson. He’d finished his burrito, but didn’t seem to know it. He was chewing empty air, wiping his mouth with a fistful of napkins. “I’m just going to keep Cary Grant and these other lovely people from knowing anything. If the three of us end up working together down the line, this meeting will just be our little secret.”

“Great. Well, it was nice meeting you, Giselle. A little weird, but nice.”