Sherlock walked straight to a kitchen chair and pulled it out. “Down you go, right there. Your kitchen’s nice and bright. I have a half dozen of those little herb pots you have lined up on the window ledge in my own kitchen. You’re right about the view. Central Park in all its winter glory, which makes me shiver just looking. You have a coffee maker I recognize, so, no problem. Everything else is in the fridge?”

Six minutes later, Mia sipped delicious coffee, closed her eyes, and whispered, “Thank you. You even heated the cream. It’s wonderful.”

“My mother-in-law taught me that. You’re welcome. Here’s your muffin, lots of peanut butter. The protein should perk you up.”

While they ate, they spoke of the frigid New York weather and the murder case Sherlock had come to New York to consult about. Sherlock gave her a few of the details. At the mention of a creative murdering psychopath who happened to be a real estate agent as well as a gun expert, Mia was leaning forward, her aches and pains forgotten. She wanted a name, only a name, but knew she wouldn’t get it. Sherlock only smiled at her, shook her head. “I’m hopeful we’ll close the case today. Then I’m sure you’ll hear about it.”

Mia watched Sherlock take their plates to the sink, pour two more cups of coffee, add the lovely hot cream, and sit down again.

Sherlock said, “Tommy’s already spoken to the current police chief in Creighton, sent him clear photos of Harrington and Harper back when they were twenty-seven, the age they’d have been at the rave at Godwyn. He’ll show them to his old list of witnesses, but it’s unlikely the photos will jog any memories. He’s tracked down the cars registered to them at the time—a Jaguar and a BMW, and their license plates. That might help put them at or near Godwyn that night, if we’re lucky. Tommy can’t check credit card records yet that could help put them coming or going from Godwyn that night seven years ago. Those aren’t in the public domain and we don’t have enough yet to get a warrant, especially on a candidate for mayor of New York City or a bigwig businessman. And since it’s unlikely Harrington and Harper started and ended their roofieing spree with Serena at Godwyn, Tommy’s going to check nearby colleges for unsolved rapes or disappearances. That kind of luck would be a lot to ask for though.

“Now, about last night. The NYPD will review the CCTV feeds, send a forensics team to West Third. The sedan struck some garbage cans, and there could be traces of paint or maybe a piece of broken headlight. They’ll spot the car, but it’s not likely they’ll see the driver well enough to make an ID.”