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midafternoon, they found most of Buffy Tyler. Beecher watched stone-faced as divers scouring the secret retreats lifted her remains to the surface.
    “I’m sorry the Racine woman is right, Sam, because Buffy is dead, but did you say I could pick any restaurant in town?”
    “Hmmph,” Beecher grumbled. “This can’t be happening. No matter what you say, I still don’t believe that woman can do this. No way.”
    “You have an explanation?”
    “It’s a publicity stunt, and she’s involved in the murder.”
    “What?”
    Nearby cops turned around at hearing Lucier’s outcry. He lowered his voice. “You can’t be serious. She didn’t want anyone to know and seemed plenty irritated when word leaked. How do you explain the episode with Cyrano?”
    Beecher thrust out his jaw defiantly. “No one saw him except her. Besides, getting someone to play the part wouldn’t be too hard. This is Mardi Gras for chrissakes. She made sure people saw her pass out. I’ll bet any money one of the Racines let the cat out of the bag. That father of hers is always looking for a way to cash in.”
    “Let me get this straight.” Lucier jabbed his finger at Beecher’s chest. “You’re saying one of the Racines killed Buffy Tyler or had her killed, then hired someone to dress up like Cyrano to touch Ms. Racine so she’d pretend to have this vision to help the police find the body. All for publicity. That’s what you’re saying, right? You think those people are capable of murder?”
    “Sure, why not?” Beecher said, obviously unwilling to concede. “I’ve looked up some stuff about Diana Racine. Her act is phony as hell. Most of what she tells people can be found with a little research. I bet she has a whole team of people working for her.”
    “Yeah, well I’ve looked her up too. Spent last night going over some interviews from people she’d read. Every one said she detailed something in her reading that no one could have known. Every one of them . When she was a kid, institutes all over the world conducted hundreds of experiments for extrasensory perception and clairvoyance, all with unanimous verdicts. Diana Racine was the real thing. Ask the police departments who hired her for years, not to mention families with missing relatives the police had given up on. Her percentages were astounding.”
    “Yeah, and all for a price.”
    “No question, she made lots of money. But her father controlled that, not her. She was a kid, Sam.”
    “Then why’d she quit?”
    “You heard her today. Said the stress tore her up. That’s heavy stuff for a little girl.”
    “So now she rakes in the dough by doing an act plus private readings for the likes of Francine Marigny and Claire Tyler.”
    “Hey, so the woman has to make a living. And that’s another thing. She doesn’t need the money or the publicity. Diana Racine’s booked for years. If she’s a phony, something keeps audiences coming back for more.”
    The two men walked toward their car, quickening their pace when the first drops of rain fell and arriving as the downpour hit.
    “Maybe she is a showman,” Lucier said, flicking the rain off his hair. “So what? That doesn’t make her a phony and sure as hell doesn’t make her a murderer.” He zeroed in on Beecher. “What have you got against this woman, Sam? You seem blind to the possibility she’s on the level.”
    Beecher popped an antacid into his mouth. “Gut instinct. I don’t believe in any of that supernatural crap.”
    “Normally, neither do I, but I can’t ignore this. I’m going to talk to her tomorrow again.”
    “Suit yourself, Ernie. But watch out. She’s a con artist.”
    “Don’t bet another dinner, friend.”

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
    The Button Speaks
     
    D iana opened the door of her hotel room, swallowed by an oversized terrycloth robe. She thought it was her mother, but it was the lieutenant. Damn, she wore no makeup and a tangle of uncontrollable ringlets tumbled from a hairclip