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no.”
    “Then I suggest you stick to fashion, not murder, and stay out of my investigation. And out of my way,” Caine said. “Rod Gibbs’s death is not your story.”
    “Wow, did you know that is absolutely the worst thing you could possibly say to a reporter?” Lacey was so shocked she started laughing. “You might as well have called me girly and patted me on the head. Don’t you tell me what my story is. I’m the reporter here.” Lacey narrowed her eyes in the best manner of the nuns back in school. It was a look that could chill men to their core. If I were a nun.
    If Caine felt a chill, he kept it to himself, but he cleared his throat again and changed the subject. It was a short interview. Caine knew enough not to ask to see her notes. And though she was sure someone had told him she took a couple of photographs, he didn’t ask about those either.
    By the time Lacey was dismissed, the light was gone and the air was February frosty. Crusted snow from a week-old storm reflected the glow from Black Martin’s streetlamps in front of the factory. Dominion Velvet’s building didn’t look like a factory to Lacey. It looked more like a midcentury elementary school, squat and L-shaped, red brick with a roof with multiple angled vents, giving it a sawtooth profile. Scarred wooden picnic tables were scattered around the grounds for workers at lunch or on breaks, but they looked ghostly and untended in the dark. The trees and bushes were winter stark.
    Their breath came out in puffs as Lacey and Vic walked around the corner of the building to the street. All the clouds had cleared from the sky and the stars began to light the black night. Vic hugged her tightly as they walked.
    “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
    “Agitated and bored, and not in a good way. Special Agent Caine is a real treat. I didn’t get to follow the police around and listen to all their theories about what happened to Mr. Gibbs, like someone I know. On the plus side, I have no desire for Max Factor’s newest foundation, Indigo Number Nine.”
    “There is that.” Vic flashed a grin that made her feel better. “You’re in the pink.”
    “But blue is all the rage. Blue is the new black.”
    “In this case blue is the new dead .”
    Though the air was far colder than when they arrived that morning and the wind chapped her cheeks, Lacey was glad to be outside and out of the velvet plant. They headed for Main Street, two blocks away.
    “You called your boss, didn’t you?” Vic asked. “Told him the story was getting bigger and messier? You’ve got that air of self-satisfaction.”
    “I do not,” she protested.
    “I recognize the look. A reporter getting one over on the cops. You did it to me often enough.”
    “I did? How sweet of you to say so. Seems like old times.” She laughed at the expression on his face. “I had to, darling. It’s my job. Besides, Mac has to know, so he can alert Claudia that the dogs of scandal may soon be barking at her door.”
    “The local law enforcement boys won’t like reading about this.”
    “I’m just spreading the joy,” Lacey said. “What’s the local police role in this anyway?”
    “VSP will take the lead,” Vic said. “But Black Martin PD will assist with whatever they can provide.”
    “So Armstrong will work with Caine?”
    “Theoretically.”
    “Great. Caine doesn’t seem the type to share information with the press.”
    It was Vic’s turn to laugh. “Not his job, darling.”
    “My whole story just exploded, and now I have to play catch-up and write something very different. You have to admit, this story took a twist nobody could have predicted.”
    “Unless they knew your track record with fashion fatalities,” he pointed out. She ignored him.
    “ The Eye cannot find out about the colorful death of one of Claudia Darnell’s business partners from somebody else’s newspaper, particularly when I’m on the spot. That’s a firing offense, especially in this