As they walked toward the eruption they saw a pair of tanned legs coming down the stairs, and by the time they were halfway there the legs had been joined by a torso and finally a head. The body parts belonged to an athletic young blond woman in a dress so short a professional tennis player might think twice about wearing it at Wimbledon. She seated herself behind the shelf and gave them a gleaming smile as they approached.

“May I help you?” she said.

“We have an appointment with Sam Masterson,” O’Hara said.

The blond woman’s smile faltered. “May I ask what this is about?”

“You can, but it won’t do you any good,” Lassiter said. “Take it from someone who’s been asking for weeks.”

“I’m Detective Juliet O’Hara with the Santa Barbara Police Department,” she said. “This is my partner, Detective Lassiter. We scheduled this appointment with Mr. Masterson to talk about one of his former employees, Mandy Jansen.”

“In that case, you’d better follow me,” the blond woman said. “I’m Chanterelle, by the way.”

“That’s a pretty name,” O’Hara said.

“It’s a mushroom,” Lassiter said.

“It’s a pretty mushroom,” Chanterelle said.

The woman named for a fungus got up from behind the desk and started up the spiral staircase. O’Hara looked up to see where they were going and found herself wondering why any woman who knew she’d be going up and down steep stairs all day would wear such a short dress, unless she was hoping to save money on visits to her gynecologist. Staring straight ahead she followed the sound of the receptionist’s footsteps until both of her own feet were on level floor. Then she looked around.

They stood in a much smaller lobby, which was only the size of the entire Santa Barbara police station. Corridors led off in either direction and they were dotted with doors spaced far enough apart that Juliet was certain the offices behind them must be enormous.