31Light burst through Cecil’s window and gleamed over the duvet. It was seven o’clock, and Immacolata had already prepared chocolate soufflé and banana pancakes. He wanted to rest in Perdonna’s mansion forever, head under the covers.
A collared navy shirt sat folded above cream pants on the bed stand.
He sent a message from his Dial.
Cecil LeClaire: Have some evidence you might want to look at.
Det. Fran Roosevelt: Meet me at the precinct. Outside. Don’t come in the building.
Cecil stared at a giant sculpture of a purple Halloween spider eating a cupcake in front of an apartment building. He clutched his briefcase just like all of the other Manhattan commuters. But there was one major difference. Commuters held spreadsheets and calendars, Cecil held portfolios of teenaged girls and fa
