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keep this as quiet as possible. I doubt it’ll do much good, but you never know.’
    ‘Horses and unbolted stable doors.’ Fortier shook his head. ‘I should have thought that one through.’
    ‘The fact the media aren’t camped out in your parking lot is a good indicator that they haven’t picked up on the website yet. That’s going to get them more excited than a dead lawyer, you can bet on that. Who knows, maybe you can keep a lid on this.’ I thought for a second then added, ‘Silly question, but I’m guessing that everyone in town has heard about Sam Galloway by now?’
    Fortier snorted a laugh. ‘What do you think?’
    ‘A town this small, I think it would be a miracle if they hadn’t, and I’m not a great believer in miracles.’
    ‘We haven’t discussed your fee yet.’
    ‘Don’t worry about that. I charge what I think people can afford. For me the case is more important than the money. I promise I won’t bankrupt you.’
    Fortier chuckled at that. ‘I’d like to see you try.’
    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
    The sheriff waved the question away. ‘Send your bill through when you’re done. And make sure you include all your expenses. I’m taking it you’ll need a little time to get up to speed before you give us a profile.’
    I glanced over at Taylor, waited until he met my eye, then said, ‘Officer Taylor brought me up to speed on the plane. I’m ready to give the profile whenever you are.’

7
    Sheriff Fortier led us along a corridor and stopped at a door that had CAPTAIN ANTHONY SHEPHERD, CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION DIVISION stencilled in gold on the smoked glass. He knocked once and pushed the door open. Shepherd was on the phone. He looked over at us, indicated that he’d just be a second, then wound up the call.
    We went through the introductions and the handshakes. Shepherd did the staring thing. He was in his mid-forties, fit and lean, with salt-and-pepper hair. His moustache was neatly trimmed and his glasses had thick black frames. He was wearing a plain brown seersucker suit, a white shirt and a red tie.
    Unlike Fortier, Shepherd still had plenty of fight left in him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d snuck into Fortier’s office and tried that big leather chair on for size.
    Shepherd did look stressed, but the reason was obvious. It had been ten years since the last murder happened in Dayton. In the last century there had only been twenty murders, an average of one every five years. The one thing those murders had in common was that the victims were killed by someone they knew. A husband, a brother, a friend. In a couple of instances the murderer had been a wife and the victim was her spouse. Nothing unusual there. Most murderers are known to their victims.
    Sam Galloway’s murder was a whole new ball game. Shepherd might have had his name stencilled in fancy gold letters on the door, but the reality of the situation was that Dayton’s Criminal Investigation Division was made up of Shepherd and two investigators, and things didn’t tend to get much more exciting than the occasional housebreak, and high-school kids selling dope.
    ‘Mr Winter is ready to give his profile,’ Fortier told him.
    ‘Already.’
    ‘I’m a fast worker,’ I said, and I could feel Taylor’s eyes burning into the back of my head. ‘And, please, just Winter is fine. “Mister” makes me feel old.’
    ‘Winter it is, then. It’s probably best if we do this next door. There’s more space.’
    Fortier glanced at his watch. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve got to go to a meeting. Tony, you can fill me in later?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    Fortier used both hands to shake mine this time, his left grasping my arm. It was a politician’s handshake, one that said I’m here for you .
    ‘Winter, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. And remember what I said. Anything you need, just holler.’
    ‘I’ll do that.’
    We filed out of the office, and Fortier peeled off to the right and headed quickly down the