“I’ve got to hand it to you, Junior—you’re a brave man to hire someone smarter than you. By the way, you have a leaf in your hair. Trying out a new look?”

Mahler pulled a dry leaf from the side of his head. “Must have come from my backyard. Someone broke into my house tonight.”

“Take anything?”

“Don’t think so. Left something. Classical recording of a tune called ‘Für Elise.’”

“The name of your victim? Someone screwing with you?”

Mahler drank his coffee. “That’s what it looks like.”

“So?” Woodhouse asked. “Why’d you call me?”

“I need you to keep an eye on Partridge.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. He approached Detective Somers tonight. Threatened her. Told her to stay away from his girlfriend. I don’t trust him.”

“Since when did we ever trust him?” Woodhouse held up his glass to study the ice cubes. “I’m too old to sit in a car waiting for a jerk-off like Partridge to do something stupid, and this will seriously cut into my flirting with Sydney.”

“We all have to prioritize. You told me that.”

“Probably sounded smarter when I said it. Tell you what, Eddie. I’ll do it. Not for you, but because I admire your Detective Somers.”

“It’s an honor working with a man of principle,” Mahler said. “Remember, Partridge knows you, so you’ll need to be a little—”

“Okay, I’ll be a little. You want to teach me how to do this now?”

“Maybe you could wear that ugly Giants cap of yours. I hear it’s what the homeless are wearing this year.”

“What’d you want to know?”

“Where he is, where he goes, day and night.”

“Tall order.”

“I’ll record Wheel of Fortune, so you don’t miss anything. You own a cell?”

“That one of those things you talk into?”

“Call me when he moves.”

Mahler slid a piece of paper toward Woodhouse. “Here’s his home and work addresses.”

“Am I supposed to eat this after I’ve read it?”

“I’ll leave it to you, Tom. You always were a man of discretion.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

(i)

(THURSDAY, 10:22 P.M.)

The team fell silent as Mahler walked into the VCI room.

“We didn’t know where you went,” Rivas said.

Looking chagrined, Mahler moved to the center of the room. “Sorry. I should’ve called you. I had to see a friend.”

Ken Holland, the detective transferred to replace Frames, sat at the extra desk. The young detective was dressed in flannel shirt, jeans, and wool cap. Mahler nodded silently at him and turned to Eden. “Did I leave you stranded?”