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as much.
    “I’ll cross-reference the fingerprints I lifted with vehicle sensors and drone camera footage to see if any of them were in Easytown tonight.”
    It was standard police procedure. It wasn’t perfect since the murderer could have taken a cab to Easytown, disabled their vehicle’s tracking device, hid from the drones—or they could work in the district. But, it was a start.
    “Okay, send it on over to Mainframe,” I ordered. Then I wondered aloud, “What are we missing here?”
    “The elephant in the room is how the killer got out of here without leaving footprints.”
    I shot him an annoyed look. I thought the guy was a great homicide cop, but he had an aggravating habit of stating the obvious. “Did you find any evidence of the killer cleaning off in the shower? They should have been covered in blood and bodily fluids.”
    “Nope, nothing. The scanner registered a minimal amount of DNA—nothing like what would come up if someone had recently washed off a lot of blood. The computer is still trying to determine if what we did find is from Wolfe.”
    I was at a loss. The ceiling didn’t have any openings and there were no windows in the room. It’s like the killer hovered above the floor…
    “Do you think the killer could have used stilts to avoid the blood?” I asked. It was New Orleans; street performers were everywhere, so it wouldn’t be a far stretch to think someone local had the skills to use them.
    “Hmm, that’d probably be a first,” Sergeant Drake replied.
    “You got any other ideas?”
    “No, sir. I sure don’t.”

 
    THREE: SATURDAY
    I surveyed the menu even though I knew the damn thing by heart. Besides, my stomach had already told me to order shawarma the moment I walked in. The only choice I had was whether to get lamb or beef.
    The table jostled slightly as my waitress sat across from me. “Hey, Zach. How you doin’?”
    I glanced up. “Hiya, kiddo. I’m good. Elbow deep in another case.”
    She frowned at me. “That’s what you’re always doing.”
    I’d known Teagan Thibodaux for a little over three years now. The waitress was in her final year at Xavier University, majoring in Education—and she hated when I called her kiddo.
    “You work too hard, Zach,” Teagan continued. “When was the last time you went on vacation?”
    I thought about it for a moment. Except for the fishing trip to the Gulf of Mexico with Amir a few years ago, I couldn’t remember the last time that I went anywhere outside of New Orleans. “Too long. I’m busy though, y’know?”
    “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack, old man . You need to relax.”
    I grunted. “You got any recommendations? Somewhere close so I can keep my finger on the pulse of Easytown while I’m off relaxing?”
    “You don’t get it,” she sighed. “When you go on vacation, you’re supposed to let go. Drake can handle your caseload while you take a week or two off. Plus, winter break is coming up, so if you need a travel buddy, I’m always willing to go to the islands…”
    “A week ?” I laughed. “I thought a vacation was over a weekend, not an entire week.”
    “You’re hopeless,” Teagan groaned. “What are you having today?” She held up her hand, “Wait. It’s Saturday, lunch, so you’re gonna have a shawarma. Right?”
    Okay, maybe I do need to shake things up a bit. “You don’t know me one bit,” I countered. I glanced at the menu and said, “I’m gonna have the kushari.”
    “Really? You know that’s vegetarian, right?”
    “Dammit, it is? Fine, you got me. I’m a crusty old creature of habit. Gimme the lamb shawarma.”
    She dropped a tanned hand on mine. “You’re not old, Zach.”
    “Well, I sure feel like it sometimes—and you just called me an old man!” I felt every bit of my age. Occasionally my knees would ache in the cursed rain and three times out of four my shoulders throbbed for a few hours after a Krav Maga workout.
    Teagan lifted her hand away from