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looks that didn’t bode well for me. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with why you wanted in on this case.”
    I took a big breath. “My sister, Silke, works for him.”
    “So you were playing me.”
    “No! I don’t know that there’s a connection any more than you do. It’s just been a really weird night, starting with Casey Brogan.”
    “Who the hell is Casey Brogan?”
    “A wannabe informant who stopped me on my way to the parking lot.”
    “He had information about the murder?”
    “Nothing concrete. He was all touchy-feely, said he saw someone in a trunk in the water—”
    “Saw?”
    “As in psychic vision. I put it to the full moon. Then I went to see Sebastian’s performance and got a little uptight when that trunk went into the river. But no one died.”
    “Only now someone did.”
    “But Brogan didn’t know enough for me to take him seriously. C’mon, Norelli.”
    “All right. But you coulda told me all this right off.”
    “So you’d look at me like I was crazy?”
    “Who said you aren’t?”
    I took a relieved breath at the insult. The crisis was over. Apparently I’d passed inspection by laying out the truth. “So where do you want me to start?”
    “With Sebastian. Get an address on him so we can see what he has to say about the similarity between his act and Julie Martin’s death.”
    The Martin woman, in a body bag now, was being carried to the ambulance.
    “I’m going to pay the husband a visit,” Norelli announced. “And then I’m going to talk to the medical examiner. You can meet me at the morgue. Then we can see what this Sebastian has to say together.”
    “Assuming I can get a fix on where to find him.”
    “You want on this case, get it.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Norelli nodded and stalked off toward his vehicle, stopping to talk to the sergeant in charge of the crime scene.
    I pulled out my cell and called Silke, but my sister didn’t pick up, so I left a message. I tried calling her place, but she didn’t answer there, either. Another message. She must still be clubbing with the uncongenial Oriel.
    Not having any other way of getting a bead on the man, I decided to go home, take that shower and put on some clean clothes. Three days of working on a homicide and I was a long way from being fresh as a daisy or any other flower. My clothes could probably stand up by themselves.
    About to leave the scene, I spotted someone hanging back by the line of trees along the riverbank. Dressed in black pants and a long-sleeved shirt, he watched the goings on, trying to make himself invisible. The thing was…I got itchy watching him. Surreptitiously moving closer, I felt the sensation increase. The guy looked familiar. I was almost on him before he realized my presence. As he turned, moonlight played over caramel-colored skin and eyes flat of expression.
    He looked just like Snake Eyes.
    “Hey, I want to talk to you,” I said, flashing my star.
    He took a step out of the trees as if he were going to comply…and then whipped around and ran down a path toward the river.
    I was right behind him. “Stop! Police!” My voice echoed off the water. When he didn’t slow, I yelled, “I need backup!”
    Then I heard other raised voices behind me. Backup, I hoped.
    “This way!” I ran faster.
    Ahead, Snake Eyes was scrambling. When nearly caught up to him, I took a leap of faith. Literally. I flew at him, rammed him from behind. The bank was muddy and slanted down toward the river. His feet slipped and we both went down hard.
    Cursing, he slid out from under me and tried to kick me. I caught his leg and twisted. He rolled with the motion and freed himself. I rolled, too, caught him by the ankle and jerked. Down he went again, while I got to my feet.
    I pulled my gun. “Hands where I can see them,” I gasped, out of breath.
    He whipped his hand up, all right, but it wasn’t empty and it went straight for my head. I saw the tree limb coming too late.
    Stars flashed through my