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  The smile she gave me was as bright as it was false. "Goodness me, Sergeant, if I didn't know better, I'd have sworn that you were just telling me how to do my job."

  "Not at all," I said. "And I apologize if I gave offense. But tell me something: would you have checked the serotonin-free histamine ratio as part of your regular procedure?"

  One of the things I like about Cecelia is her utter honesty. After a couple of seconds she said, "No, Stan, I probably wouldn't have. The snarky comment is hereby withdrawn."

  "Fair enough. I was–"

  Karl's head lifted a couple of inches, like a hunting dog that hears the far-off sound of geese approaching. He said, "Pardon me," and started walking rapidly toward the open bay door.

  "Something wrong?" I called after him.

  "Think I hear the radio." Can't beat those extra-sharp vampire senses. It was nice to have them on my side, for a change.

  I chatted with Cecelia for another minute or two, then Karl came back in the garage. "Stan."

  "What's up?"

  "Radio call. It's McGuire."

  He turned and went back out, and I followed him. Over my shoulder I said to Cecelia, "Gotta run. Talk to you after the post, OK?"

  I saw her nod and then I concentrated on getting out to the car without quite running. McGuire wouldn't get on the radio personally just to ask us to pick up a pizza.

  As we reached the car, I asked Karl, "Did he tell you anything?"

  "Better hear it from him," Karl said.

  No, definitely not a pizza run.

  I got in, and grabbed the radio. "This is Markowski."

  "This is McGuire."

  Yeah, I knew that already – get to it.

  "Yes, boss."

  He said, "Sefchik and Aquilina are in the house, but I thought I'd try to reach you first. Figured you might want this one, since it concerns Rachel Proctor."

  Please don't tell me that she's the latest witch to be burned. Please, for the love of God, don't tell me that.

  "What happened?" I didn't yell, but everything in me wanted to.

  "For starters, she's OK. So cool those jets of yours."

  Guess McGuire could tell that I'd wanted to yell.

  "All right, boss. What's up with Rachel?"

  "Looks like our witch burner may have made a try for her tonight."

  "And…?" I asked.

  "She had a spell of some kind ready, and she zapped the bastard," McGuire said.

  "Good for her – but 'zapped' how?" I already knew she couldn't have killed him. White magic, and all that.

  "Froze him in place, apparently. Maybe you ought to get over there, have her thaw out the suspect, and bring him in. There's a black-and-white on scene already, but I figured you'd want in on this."

  "As my partner likes to say, Fuckin' A. Where's 'over there'?"

  "Rachel's house," McGuire said. "I guess the guy made his move on her front porch."

  "We're on the way. Markowski out."

  As I started up, Karl said, "Fuckin' A? You stealing my lines, now?"

  "I was only borrowing that one, Mister…?" I let my voice trail off, figuring that Karl would get what I was doing.

  He did. He gave a laugh, then said, in his best Sean Connery imitation, "Renfer. Karl Renfer."

The black-and-white unit, red and blue lights flashing, was parked in front of 1484 Stanton Street, and I slid our car in behind it. Rachel's front porch light was on, and under its illumination I could see Rachel, two uniformed officers – and a strangely posed mannequin. At least, it looked like a mannequin.

  As we approached the porch, I could see that one of the uniforms was talking to Rachel, his notebook and pen in hand, while the other one stood next to the thing that looked like it belonged in a display window at Boscov's, or maybe in Madame Tussauds wax museum.

  We mounted the creaking steps and went over to Rachel, who looked like she'd had a shock but was holding herself together pretty well. Karl probably would have said that she appeared shaken, but not stirred.

  I nodded at the uniform who'd been talking to her. His name was McHale, and I'd been seeing him around for the last five years or so. He was tall and broad, the dusting of freckles across his nose an odd contrast to his King Kong physique. He took a couple of steps back as I approached Rachel.

  "How you doing, kiddo?" I said to her.

  "I'm not bad, considering, and stop calling me 'kiddo'."

  I tried not to smile. Same old Rachel.

  "Wanna tell me what happened?"

  "As I was saying to Officer McHale, I got home about half an hour ago. I was standing in front of the door, sifting through my keys to find the right one. I heard a sound off to my left. I looked, and he–" she pointed with her chin toward the still figure "–was coming at me quite fast, his arm extended the way you see now."

  "You didn't notice him before that?" I asked. I glanced around her porch. "There isn't anyplace to hide up here."

  "The porch light was off – I only went inside and turned it on after the excitement was over. He'd been hiding in the shadows over near the side railing."

  "Gotcha. So you look over your shoulder and see him coming at you. Then what?"

  "As I told you when we talked last, I had a spell ready, the kind I could invoke with a single word – and the proper gesture. So I made the gesture, said the word, and voila – instant statuary."

  "Nice casting," I said. "I'm glad you were prepared."

  "Me, too." Her lips compressed grimly. "Especially considering the fate I would probably have suffered, if this motherfucker had been successful in abducting me."