Jessie was about to tear into Matilda when she looked at the clock. It was after 5 p.m. already and she still had to reach out to the tech CEO and see what Dolan had found on the Jerebko alibis. It was unlikely she could get to Collison today anyway. She decided to play nice.

“Here’s what I need you to do, Matilda,” she said, still firm but with less of an edge. “Go find your boss and speak to him privately. Tell him that LAPD is concerned that he might be at risk for blackmail related to a group called LOL. When he hears that, he’ll know what it’s about. Have him text me at this number with a location to discuss the matter first thing tomorrow. It’s five-oh-seven p.m. now. If I don’t get that text by seven p.m., my partner and I are going to come to that set and bring him into the station to chat, no matter what he’s shooting. We clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Matilda said.

“Have a nice evening,” Jessie said before hanging up.

“You seemed to enjoy that more than was professionally appropriate,” Murph said without looking up.

“What—are you the peanut gallery now?” Jessie asked, half-irked, half-amused. “You barely speak for hours at a time and then you bust out random critiques of my investigative techniques?”

“Just an observation.”

Before she could reply the door opened and Dolan stepped in. He looked frustrated.

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

“Jerebko’s latest girlfriend confirmed his alibi,” he said disappointed. “And his phone GPS data does too. We’re checking video cameras from her building but it doesn’t look good.”

“What about Gayle?”

“Same. I didn’t talk to her kids. But her phone data has her exactly where she said she was—at home. Your tech folks even found that she bought a movie on Amazon around eleven forty-five p.m. That doesn’t totally absolve her. The medical examiner is putting time of death as between midnight and two a.m. But nothing I’ve found suggests she’s an avenging angel. Besides, she struck me as a practical sort. She knows that a scandal like this isn’t going to ruin her husband’s reputation. Hell, it might even make him more interesting to voters. Either way, I think we’ve hit a dead end with the Jerebkos.”

“That sucks.”

“Yep. So I cut Milton loose, at least for now. And it gets worse. The preliminary toxicology report came back negative for drugs. Nothing official, but it looks like Claire had a little alcohol in her system. That was it.”

“How is that worse?” Jessie asked.

“Because now the marshal over there is going to start thinking he should apply to the FBI.”

“I’m happy with my gig,” Murph said quietly, somehow managing not to smile.

“What a saint you are,” Dolan said, looking more bothered by Murph being correct about Claire not being an addict than their top suspects alibiing out.

“Maybe I can improve your mood,” Jessie said as she stood up, hoping to move on from the testosterone battle she felt brewing.