Mail was scattered inside the door where the postman drops it through the slot. I gathered it together, put on a pot of coffee, then turned on my message machine. The Elvis Cole Detective Agency was officially back in business. Of course, since I had ignored everything offered to me for the past six weeks I didn't exactly have something to do.

I went through the mail. A lot of it was bills and junk, but seven pieces were what I thought of as fan mail: a handwritten marriage proposal from someone named Didi, four letters congratulating me for bringing three mass murderers to justice, an anonymous nude photo of a young man holding his penis, and a letter from someone named Loyal Anselmo who described Pike and me as "dangerous vigilantes no better than the monsters you murdered." Some people are never happy.

I kept four of the letters with the intention of sending thank-you notes and dumped the others. After thinking about it, I pulled Anselmo's letter from the trash and put it into a file I kept for death threats and lunatics. If someone murdered me in my sleep I wanted the cops to have clues.

I poured a cup of coffee and felt disappointed that nothing had led back to the dead man. It was possible he had written me and I had tossed his letter, but I could never know that. He could have called when my machine was turned off, but I would never know that, either.

I was trying to figure out a new avenue of detection when the phone rang.

"Elvis Cole Detective Agency. Back on your case, and just in time."

"It's me, Diaz. You at your office, or is this call being forwarded? I already tried your house."

"I'm at the office. Did you get an ID?"

"I'm sorry, we didn't. I thought for sure this dude would be in the system, but he's not. The coroner investigator ran him through the Live Scan as soon as they got to the morgue, but nothing came up."

The Live Scan was an inkless fingerprinting process that digitized fingerprints, and instantly compared them with files at the California Department of Justice in Sacramento. If nothing came up, then he had never served time or been arrested in California.

"Okay. What happens next?"

"Sacramento will roll the prints through NLETS. We still have a shot with the Feds, but it could take a few days. You said you got a lot of mail and calls you didn't answer-"

"I came in to check, Diaz. There's nothing. He could have sent something earlier, but I don't have anything now. I just went through the mail."

"I hate to ask this but I'm going to ask anyway. I'm going over to the morgue. Would you meet me there?"

"I thought Pardy had the case."