Grant felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “Meaning what, precisely?”

“This nonsense with your daughter. You don’t really expect me to swallow the notion that she came up with the Commandments angle herself. Why don’t you admit that you fed it to her?”

“Rather than you admit she beat you to the punch?”

“Because she’s your daughter and had inside knowledge,” argued Ferguson.

“What can I say? Something rubbed off being raised in a copper’s home.”

Ferguson muttered to himself. Grant could see his mind switching tracks.

“Let’s talk about Leeds. How do you go from interviewing every single resident of an apartment building to suddenly focusing on a parolee just released to a halfway house in Far Rockaway who just happened to murder his parents?”

Grant must have reacted because a smile curled on Ferguson’s face.

“You’re not going to slip everything by me, Grant. Hard as you might try.”

“You know how it works, Monte. One thing leads to another. And I’m under no obligation to detail that process with you.”

Phyllis arrived with pots of tea and coffee. Grant thought her timing perfect, giving him a chance to steer the conversation in a direction that would get the Mail journalist off his back. By the time Phyllis went to check on their breakfast, an idea formulated in his head that might prove advantageous to both him and Ferguson.

“Shall we talk about a potential victim number six?” asked Grant.

The reporter practically choked on his coffee.

“Am I sitting across from Austin Grant? Commander at Scotland Yard?”

“For twelve more days. But who’s counting?”

“What gives?”

“You know as well as I do what comes next. ‘Thou shalt not kill .’” Grant took a sip of tea. “Sort of narrows the field, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re looking for a killer. Someone who’s out and about—like Leeds was.”

Grant nodded. “But he was murdered for a different reason.”

“Because he killed his mother and father. That was made quite clear after your daughter dropped her little bomb.” Ferguson shook his head. “I’m sure all the agencies working on this are combing databases for killers as we speak.”

“No question.”

“So why are we even discussing it?”

“Because those lists will only contain murders on the record. They won’t account for ones that we haven’t heard about.”

“And you think someone like me would?” Ferguson wondered. “For once, you’re giving me more credit than I’m due.”

“You hear things in your line of work, Monte. Rumors, innuendos. You can make the sort of inquiries men like myself and Detective Frankel can’t because we are burdened by badges, rules, and such.” Grant mustered up his most casual shrug, then finished the train of thought. “At this point it can’t hurt working every possible angle.”