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Patterson’s face showed that he didn’t believe it. He was really going to have to work on the blank cop face, right now everything he thought spilled across his face. “Then what were you doing inside this place?” A look of near evil joy crossed his face. “Oh, I get it. You like to look at other people’s beans and weinies.”

“Beans and weinies,” I said, “what the fuck does that mean?”

“Dick and balls,” he said, with a tone that implied everyone knew that.

Micah looked at me, and even through the dark glasses, I could picture the look. I was beginning to see what had gotten on his nerves.

“Patterson, I allowed you to question my friends out of courtesy. This is my crime scene, not yours, and if you can’t ask a single question that could help us solve this crime, then you need to go somewhere else.”

I don’t know what he would have said, but I felt Sheriff Christopher coming up behind me, even before I saw the look of satisfaction on the deputy’s face. His look said clearly that the sheriff would sort me out, and he’d enjoy a ringside seat.

Patterson said, “He won’t tell me where he works, Sheriff. Says he’s not a stripper. Says he just came to watch a little fag wag.”

I made a small sound in my throat. “I’m going to say this just one more time. We got a call from my friend Veronica Simms that the bartender at this club told her she was too drunk to drive and she needed a ride home. Micah came along so that he could help me with her.”

“And what about the other one?” Patterson asked. “He says he’s a stripper at Guilty Pleasures.”

“Nathaniel came along to keep us company,” I said.

Sheriff Christopher gave me a flat cop look. It was a real look. He might be a prejudiced, woman-hating, good ol’ boy, but he was a cop, too. Underneath all the crap was someone who could be good at the job, when his personal agenda wasn’t getting in the way. It made me feel better, that look, but of course, his personal agenda was raining all over us.

“Why’d you need two friends,” and he stressed the friends, “to help pick up one drunk girlfriend?”

“Nathaniel had just gotten off work, and we hadn’t gotten to talk, so he came along, so we could visit.”

Sheriff Christopher frowned at me. “You said you were home.”

“I was.”

“I thought this one was your boyfriend.” He pointed at Micah.

“He is.”

“So what’s that one?” he asked, pointing a thumb in Nathaniel’s direction. Nathaniel was talking to the last deputy. He seemed to be having an easier time of it than Micah or me, maybe his deputy was smarter, or just less prejudiced.

“My boyfriend,” I said.

“They’re both your boyfriends?”

I took in air, let it out slow. “Yes.”

“Well, my, my,” he said.

I said a small prayer that Zerbrowski would get here soon. “We’ve got another victim, Sheriff, or don’t you care?”

“Yeah, that’s another thing,” he said, and he put those hard cop eyes on me. If he thought it was going to make me flinch, he was wrong, but it was still a good look. “You just accidentally found our serial killer’s next vic.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Bullshit, bullfuckingshit.”

“Believe what you want, Sheriff. I’ve told you and your people the absolute truth. I could make stuff up, if it would make you happier.”

He looked past me to Micah. “I like to see a man’s eyes when I talk to him, take off the glasses.”

Shit. Micah looked at me, and I looked at him. I shrugged. “Patterson has never actually asked what Micah does for a living. He’s been too busy trying to get Micah to admit that he’s a stripper, or a homosexual, to worry much about the facts.”

“Fine, I’m askin’ what do you do for a living, Mr. Callahan?”

“I am the coordinator for the Coalition for Better Understanding between Lycanthrope and Human Communities.”

“You’re the what?” Patterson said.

“Shut up, Patterson,” Christopher said. “So you’re one of the bleeding heart liberals that think the animals deserve equal rights.”

“Something like that, Sheriff.”

Christopher was giving Micah all his attention suddenly. “Take off the glasses, Mr. Coordinator.”

Micah took