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and took seats in the back. Fortunately, we were the only riders at the moment. I looked at Darla, whose expression carried a weary glaze. Neither one of us was the eager beaver cop we once were.
    “You must have rattled Watisi’s cage when you tried to talk with him yesterday,” I said.
    “I suppose.”
    “Anything else about him suspicious?”
    “Just that he’s a big game hunter. You should see the trophies mounted on his wall.”
    “May not be anything wrong with that.”
    “Maybe not. But what if the man hates cats?”
    “The man hates cats?”
    “That’s what his wife let slip—she’s his secretary—when I asked about the stuffed lion and tiger heads he’s got in his office.”
    “Maybe we should check his taxidermist for Groucho.”
    “Somehow I don’t think it’s going to be so easy to pin this rap on him.”
    “So I take it your stakeout in the park last night was a waste of time.”
    “Pretty much. I sat watching both the building and the park across the street for more than five hours. Seen the usual—homeless types, teenaged hookers, young folks sneaking off together into the woods to do whatever. Bunches of bats. Even a few pigeons.”
    “But no owls. And no mysterious man wearing a big glove around either.”
    “Right. But don’t forget. We’ve got people saying they’ve seen this dude with the bird. I figured it was worth a shot.”
    “Did you call and talk to Dr. Lonigan while we standing around dealing with the cops?”
    “Yes.”
    “You tell her why we were running late?”
    “I just said there’d been some complications and I’d explain when we got there. She said she’d wait for us. Already did her weekend rounds at the hospital.”
    “Early riser.”
    “I don’t know if the woman ever sleeps.”
    “Tell me some more about your kids.”
    “Sweetness is five and in kindergarten. Cute as a button. That’s her booster seat in the van. My middle boy Marco is nine. The quiet type, but sharp. Doesn’t miss a trick.
    “You must be proud.”
    “I am.”
    “They well protected?”
    “They will be now. First thing when I get home, I’m shipping them out to stay with my sister in Pennsylvania.”
    “Depending on how our meeting goes with Watisi, I’d like to start looking more deeply into his affairs.”
    “Go for it. One thing I haven’t had time to do yet is follow the money trail,” Darla said. “Could be some kind of connection between Watisi’s dispute with Dr. Lonigan and some of his other developments.”
    “I thought we already knew that,” Nicole said. “Isn’t there a public referendum or something coming up?”
    Darla said, “There is, but developers like Watisi get into disputes all the time with their tenants. That wouldn’t be enough for Watisi to risk causing a stir by killing a bunch of pets.”
    “Maybe,” I said. “Unless you’re trying to keep a really low profile because you’ve got something to hide and you don’t like all the publicity the dispute with Lonigan and the other tenants is raising …”
    “But you start killing people’s pets, that sends a very personal message.”
    “Bodies of other pets have been found?” I asked.
    “No. None.”
    “Seems to me if you want to send a message, you make sure the bodies are found.”
    “Yeah. Maybe.”
    Our shuttle had arrived at the lot where rows of shiny new cars sat parked in the sun, somewhere among them our new ride.
    “Hey,” I said to Darla. “You never did get that coffee you wanted.”
    “Don’t matter,” she said, rising to depart as the van pulled to a stop and the driver swished open the doors. “I’m awake enough now.”

5
    The ride in from the airport to Manhattan with Darla and Nicole was a silent affair, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
    Through the rental van window I watched a teenager jog along Frederick Douglas Avenue. His spotless Air Nikes contradicted the rest of his outfit—greasy blue jean cutoffs, cheap yellow T-shirt, and a red and blue