“Look,” I said. “Paula Thompson has nothing to do with me being here, but I can tell that you don’t believe me. So let’s cut to the chase. You think Paula hired me to embarrass you, correct?”

“Correct.”

“To do that, presumably I’d need to solve the case and make an ass out of you.”

His face darkened again, as if he was two seconds from telling me to watch my mouth.

“What if I told you I don’t care who claims the arrest?” I said. “In fact, you’re welcome to it.”

“Exactly how stupid—”

You already asked that. And, trust me, you don’t want an answer. “The collar doesn’t do me any good. All I need is a recommendation from you to my employer, telling them I was instrumental in solving the case.”

He chewed that over, eyes narrowing in speculation now. Either I was naïve or I was desperate to prove myself on this job. Neither actually—a collar meant media attention, which we avoided, but he didn’t know that. Naive or desperate, I could be useful on a case that had obviously stalled.

“I’m not here to take the case away from you,” I said after a minute of silence. “My client wants me to help you find who did it.”

“Oh, I know who did it. I’m just compiling the evidence.”

“Then maybe I can help with that. Like I said, there are things I can do, places I can go. No matter how good a cop you are, you’re still bound by cop rules. Those girls deserve the best and most complete investigation they can get.”

He considered that. Or at least he pretended to. Truth was, he didn’t give a shit about the victims; I could see that in his eyes. But he did care about his job.

“All right,” he said. “But if you interfere in my investigation in any way ...”

He blustered for a few more minutes as I struggled to pay attention.

Finally he ran out of steam and I assured him I’d be a good little PI. “But to do a proper job, I’ll need full access to the files,” I said. “Crime-scene photos. Lab findings. Coroner’s report. Witness interviews. A copy of everything. I’d hate to waste time going over ground you’ve already covered.”

“I’ll give you the lab findings and the coroner’s report. You come back to me with proof that you can handle more and I’ll give you more.”

In other words, he’d dole out tidbits as I fed him my findings. That was fine. This place looked easy enough to break into. I’d get the files myself. So I agreed, and he ran off a copy of the lab and coroner’s findings and, as a bonus, threw in the name of the killer.

“Cody Radu. Ginny Thompson’s boyfriend.”