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like the inside joke of Chicago, Mrs. O’Leary whose cow started the great fire of 1871. It feels like a tongue-in-check reference to that.”
    “Somewhere in the notes they figured it out,” Paul told her. “The name on the photo was actually Mrs. Cary. He altered it. I suspect our caller drew the map, played with the name while he thought about what he wanted to say on the call, stuck the photo back on the bulletin board, and dropped his coins into the pay phone. Which reminds me—make a note to see if anyone thought to check for fingerprints on the coins. He wiped down the phone and the photo, probably didn’t think of the coins.” Black was leaning into the back of his knee to move him toward the elevator. Paul ruffled his ears in apology.
    “Cops spent much of the subsequent investigation trying to find the caller and probably had his prints on the change if they had thought to look,” Ann said.
    “It happens.” Paul picked up a piece of bacon to share with Black and leaned over to kiss her. “Sure you weren’t up early because you’re nervous about my mom coming over for lunch?”
    “I might have wanted to make sure I hid some of my clutter.”
    “Don’t make her too uncomfortable with everything in its place. She’s more disorganized than you.”
    “I knew there was a reason I loved your parents.” The phone rang and they both ignored it.
    “The Harbor guys are nervous. Lots of dignitaries down at the pier today. You might want to avoid that direction when youand Mom go shopping. And whoever is casing the Willis Tower has both my attention and the Chicago PD’s. Plainclothes cops might get skittish when they notice the fact you’re carrying.”
    “We’ll stay off Wacker Drive too.”
    “Appreciate it. Try to spend some money.”
    She smiled and pushed him toward the elevator. “Go walk our dog and then go to work. Chicago needs you running that battleship of an FBI office.”
    He stole another kiss. “Yes, ma’am.”

FOUR
    B ryce walked back toward Bishop Chicago. He liked Ann’s friends as a rule, and tonight had been no exception. It had been an enjoyable dinner with Ann and Paul Falcon, along with their guest, Ginger Nyce. So why had he not asked Ginger for her phone number?
    He had spent a perfectly pleasant evening talking with her. She was an interior designer who specialized in kitchen remodels, they shared friends and some interests, she’d fit nicely into his life, and he’d merely said good-night when the evening was over. He knew Ann had been hopeful they would hit it off, and a bit disappointed when he had not pursued it. He should have been interested—that was the problem, and he couldn’t sort out why he hadn’t been.
    Work was under control. His staff had risen to the challenge and were doing an exceptional job with the estate coins. The cash he needed to raise was well under way. He’d even found himself with enough idle time that he had been watching for Charlotte to reappear. She’d said she would be back in a couple of weeks, and it was now three. He told himself it was because he didn’t want the surprise of her arrival catching him off guard again, and that was true. But part of him wonderedif she would return or if she would simply vanish one day as abruptly as she appeared.
    He’d geared up for a big change in the business, and now he was simply waiting. Asking for Ginger’s number would have been adding a new personal interest, and until he knew what was going to be happening with his professional life, he didn’t want to start something significant in his personal life. He relaxed at his reasoning. Starting a relationship and immediately shortchanging it for time wasn’t his style.
    There was an outdoor concert coming up in a couple of months. If he wanted to get to know Ginger better, that would be a reason to call, and by then life should be more settled. He liked the idea and made himself a mental note to buy the tickets. He could always gift them