I gave them both a drop dead look. “You don’t murder clients. There’s no money in it.” Unless he was violent, I thought but didn’t say. Unless you’d been pushed past your limit.

“You ever hear rumors about Hiram Klein? From the deceased or any other call girl?”

I thought about Klein’s fingerprints, tattoo-fresh, across Ellen’s face. She wasn’t the first woman he’d tried that with. “Rumors? What do you mean?”

Escobar didn’t answer. “Was Ms. Howard ever the violent type?”

I tapped my nails on the desk, pretended to think about it. Anyone could be the violent type, given the right circumstances. The right motivations. “No-oo,” I said finally. “I didn’t think she was. But you never know, I guess.”

Escobar and MacLeish exchanged glances, and MacLeish jotted something in his notebook.

“Anything else I can help you boys with?”

“I think you’ve given us quite a lot today,” MacLeish said. “We know where to find you, if we have any follow-up questions.”

He rattled off my address, which shook me. Would I be there tonight, in case they wanted to swing by with further questions? I nodded.

“That’s all?” I looked back and forth between the two of them.

“If you want, I can cuff you for the thrill of it,” Escobar said.

“Thanks,” I said, giddy, my knees weak with relief. I didn’t realize, until they were rising from their chairs, how much I’d expected this interview to end with me in custody. “But I charge for that.”

At the door, MacLeish stopped and turned to me. His downturned eyes were unhappy—like he was a little sad at what was about to happen. My knees locked up, and my palm came to rest on top of the notebook.

“Your book there,” he said, jutting his chin at my desk. I flinched. He saw. “That a datebook?”

“A–a what?” My teeth were chattering. I pressed my lips together and tried to take slow, even breaths through my nose.

“You know, a datebook,” MacLeish said. His partner was still outside the door, craning his neck to look in on Jackal. “My daughter got me one for my birthday last year, keeps track of all your appointments in a day. A little old-fashioned, I told her, most people nowadays, they use their phone for that sort of thing.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe you were like me. A little old-fashioned.”

I’d let myself forget he was playing the good cop. I’d let myself be lulled in. “No,” I said finally. “Only a notebook. Nothing special.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding, smiling. “Then I don’t suppose it has any old appointments with Ms. Howard scheduled inside. Dates, times, locations.”

“N-no,” I stammered. I cleared my throat. Buck up, Jo. “You can come back, if you want. Look at anything you like. With a warrant.”