Hold Tight by Harlan Coben

it.”
    “Huh?”
    “Tell me about the case.”
    “We don’t know much yet. Hooker found dead. Someone bashed in her face good. ME thinks she was beaten to death. No ID yet. We asked some of the other hookers, but no one knows who she is.”
    “Do the other hookers not know her name,” Cope asked, “or they don’t know her at all?”
    “They ain’t talking much, but you know how it is. No one sees nothing. We’ll work them.”
    “Anything else?”
    “We found a green bandana. It ain’t an exact match but it’s the colors of a new gang. I’m having some of the known members picked up. We’ll grill them, see if we can get one to give up the mutt. We’re also working the computers, see if we can get someone with a similar MO working prostitutes in the area.”
    “And?”
    “And so far, nothing. I mean, we got plenty of dead hookers. I don’t have to tell you that, boss. This is the seventh this year.”
    “Fingerprints?”
    “We ran them through local. No hits. We’ll go NCIC, but that’ll take some time.”
    Cope nodded. “Okay, so your complaint about Muse is…?”
    “Look, I don’t want to step on any toes, but let’s face it: She shouldn’t have this job anyway. You picked her because she’s a woman. I get that. That’s the reality today. A guy puts in his years, works hard, it don’t mean nothing if someone has black skin or no dick. I get that. But this is discrimination too. I mean, just because I’m a guy and she’s a gal doesn’t mean it should fly, right? If I was her boss and I questioned everything she did, well, she’d probably scream rape or harassment or something and I’d get my ass sued off.”
    Cope nodded again. “That makes sense.” He turned toward Loren. “Muse?”
    “What?”
    “Any comment?”
    “For one, I’m not sure I’m the only one in the room with no dick.” She looked at Tremont.
    Cope said, “Anything else?”
    “I feel sandbagged.”
    “Not at all,” Cope said. “You are his superior, but that doesn’t mean you should be babysitting him, right? I’m your superior, do I babysit you?”
    Muse fumed.
    “Investigator Tremont has been here a long time. He has friends and respect. That’s why I’m giving him this opportunity. He wants to go to the press with this in a big way. Make a formal complaint. I asked him to have this meeting. Be reasonable. Let him invite Mr. Gaughan, so he can see how we work in an open and nonhostile fashion.”
    They all looked at her.
    “Now I will ask again,” Cope said to her. His eyes met hers. “Do you have any comments on what Investigator Tremont just said?”
    Cope had a smile on his face now. Not a big one. Just the corners of his mouth twitching. And she suddenly understood.
    “I do,” Muse said.
    “The floor is yours.”
    Cope sat back now and put his hands behind his head.
    “Let’s start with the fact that I don’t think the victim was a prostitute.”
    Cope raised his eyebrows as though this were the most stunning sentence anyone had ever uttered. “You don’t?”
    “No.”
    “But I saw her clothes,” Cope said. “I heard Frank’s report just now. And the location of the body-everyone knows that’s where hookers hang out.”
    “Including the killer,” Muse said. “That’s why he dumped her there.”
    Frank Tremont burst out laughing. “Muse, you’re full of crap. You need evidence, sweetie, not just intuition.”
    “You want evidence, Frank?”
    “Sure, let’s hear it. You got nothing.”
    “How about her skin color.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Meaning she is Caucasian.”
    “Oh, this is precious,” Tremont said, holding up both palms. “Oh, I love this.” He looked at Gaughan. “You getting this down, Tom, because this is simply priceless. I suggest that maybe, just maybe, a prostitute isn’t priority one and I’m a bigoted Neanderthal. But when she claims that our victim can’t possibly be a whore because she’s white, well, that’s solid police work.”
    He wagged a