He resisted an impulse to sarcasm. “Yeah, Partridge’s the one. What I want is for you to meet him. Sit across from him, watch him, smell him, whatever. If you’re going to work this case, you need to know the guy. I don’t care if you say anything or not.”

As they walked in, Jordan Everest stood. He was a tall man, dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and silk tie. His thick hair was combed straight back and looked wet, like he had just stepped out of a shower. He nodded at Mahler and reached his right hand toward Eden.

Eden hesitated and then shook his hand and introduced herself. She sat next to Mahler with a steno notepad in her lap.

Beside the lawyer, Partridge had not moved. He stared vacantly ahead without acknowledging the others. He had an unshaven face and deep-set eyes and wore a short-sleeved sports shirt open at the collar.

Mahler switched on the room’s recorder. Out loud, he noted the date and time and identified those in the room. Mahler spoke Partridge’s name last and glanced across the table at the man. He reminded Partridge of his voluntary presence in lieu of a reading of his Miranda rights. It was the first time in two years that the two men were in the same room. Seeing Partridge now, Mahler remembered the man’s ordinariness and the way he smiled triumphantly when answering a question. Mahler picked up a pencil and rolled it in his fingers.

“At the outset, Detective,” Everest said, “I’d like to make the point that we’re here at your invitation and that my client is taking time off from his employment, at his own expense.”

Ignoring the lawyer, Mahler addressed Partridge. “Where were you last night after 10:00 p.m.?”

Partridge turned to face Mahler. “I had a few drinks at the Tap Room and went home around eleven.”

Partridge’s mouth closed on the answer. It was a practiced reply, with just enough detail to be possible. Mahler had known other career criminals like Partridge who learned the art of interrogation. They fell into a groove of apparent cooperation. They learned to relinquish just enough information to force the questioner to verify meaningless facts. He wondered what Eden was making of Partridge.

“Can someone confirm that?”

“My girlfriend can tell you what time I got home. Name’s Lorin Albright. Call her and ask her.”

“Meet any women last night?”

“I just told you I have a girlfriend.”

“Were you at Spring Lake Park?”

Everest rested a hand on Partridge’s shoulder. “Don’t answer that.” He looked back and forth at Mahler and Eden. “I assume this interrogation has to do with the recent homicide? Is it your department’s policy to question my client for every death in the park?”