Wouldn’t want to be the object of her wrath, because she never, ever gives up. If she fails, and supposedly it has happened now and then-not on my watch, not so far-it’s usually because the bad guy has already died, taking essential secrets to his grave. “His” because most of our cases involve males, from my experience, although boss lady has no problem going after female criminals whenever they make the mistake of crossing her path.

Utterly calm, she begins to lay out assignments while we dutifully sip Beasley’s perfectly brewed tea and munch on her crumbly, jam-smeared scones. “Jack, everything you know. In order, please.”

Our chief investigator takes a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I was awakened by a phone call at 6:15 a.m. Shane needs my help, can I meet him in Kendall Square? There was the usual early-commuter traffic, so by the time I found him it was 7:10.”

“This was at the crime scene?”

Jack shakes his head. “No. Shane had fled the crime scene. His client, the professor, lives somewhere in Cambridge, not far from MIT.”

Naomi nods, and subtly checks to be sure I’m taking notes, which of course I am. “Joey Keener, the missing child. Any idea how old he is?”

Jack shrugs. “I think Shane said he was five. I’ll confirm when I get the murder location from Cambridge P.D.”

“Your friend Shane thinks he’s being framed by a ‘covert agency,’ possibly part of the Department of Defense or the Department of Homeland Security. Apparently having to do with the fact that his client was working on a top-secret project. Did he give you any hint what that project was about?”

“No. He just said the guy was a genius. Not what he was working on.”

“What made him suspect he was being framed?”

“His gun was missing.”

“Ah,” she says, pursing her lips as she registers the information. “A missing gun. That explains his suspicion about being framed, perhaps, but not why he believes a government agency is responsible.”