“A veve?”

“Yeah. The heart-shaped one.”

The hair on the back of my neck prickled at the mention of the symbol. It was definitely one of her calling cards.

“It figures,” I mumbled, and then launched into an appeal, “Listen, Ben, even if the scene is a week old, maybe if I just had a look?”

“Uh-huh, how ‘bout no.”

“Dammit, Ben.”

“Jeezus, Row, just give it a rest. Hell, what makes ya’ think they’d even let ya’ into the scene anyway?”

“Easy. You could call them back. I mean I’m already here after all. Don’t you cops have some kind of fraternal code about helping one another out?”

“That’s just for speedin’ tickets.”

“I’m serious, Ben.”

“I know ya’ are, but even if I did call, I’m gonna tell ‘em what? My buddy the Witch is in town and wants ta’ come by and look at the gore fest? It don’t work that way and you know it,” he told me. “On top of that, what you do in Saint Louis doesn’t necessarily fly elsewhere. Shit, it doesn’t always fly here and you know that too, in spades.”

“Then what about Constance?” I pressed, “She’s federal. What if she made the call?”

I was talking about Special Agent Constance Mandalay of the FBI. She was also a good friend, not to mention that she and Ben had been in an on again, off again relationship ever since his divorce. Even so, I didn’t feel guilty about asking him to get her involved in this because she was already in it up to her neck anyway. It wasn’t as if I was asking him to use his personal influence over her, not that he really had any based on what I’d witnessed of their relationship.

“Not happenin’,” he replied. In my mind’s eye I could see him shaking his head as he spoke. He continued before I could object again, “Look, Row, like I said. It’s bein’ investigated. The MCS and the Feebs are in the loop. There ain’t shit you or I can do about it, and so there’s no need in you tryin’ ta’ get in somewhere that you’re not welcome.”