YOU NEVER SEE so many murder victims that it stops making you hurt, but this one was especially hard to look at. She was so young and beautiful: calm, tranquil, and undisturbed except for the three crimson flowers of blood spread on her white chest. She looked as if she were a sleeping princess awaiting her prince, but her prince was in the other room, his guts spilled all over the floor. "Whaddaya want for thirty-five hundred bucks a night?" Jacobi shrugged. "The whole fairy tale?" It was taking everything I had just to keep my grip on what I had to do. I glared, as if a single, venomous look could shut Jacobi down. "Jeez, Boxer, what's goin' on?" His face sagged. "It was just a joke." Whatever it was, his childlike, remorseful expression brought me back. The bride was wearing a large diamond on her right hand and fancy earrings. Whatever the killer's motive, it wasn't robbery. A tech from the medical examiner's office was about to begin his initial examination. "Looks like three stab wounds," he said. "She must've showed a lot of heart. He got the groom with one." What flashed through my mind was that fully 90 percent of all homicides were about money or sex.