The Night Caller by John Lutz

writers,” Deni told him.
    He nodded and hurried away.
    “So what do you think?” she asked Coop.
    “I’ll take it home, read it all, and get back to you.”
    “But your first impression?”
    “My first impression is we have a long way to go before we can convince any law enforcement agency we’re dealing with a serial killer.” He’d asked Billard to contact the police departments in the cities where the other murders on Deni’s list had occurred and inquire about plastic saints. None of the departments had such information and was withholding it from the public.
    “What about the footprints?” Deni asked.
    “What about the fact that the women were murdered in different cities, with different weapons, in different ways, and that in one case an arrest and conviction was obtained, and in two others the police think they know who did it?”
    “Well, that’s how it works: He kills in different states and jurisdictions because he knows the local police won’t run everything through national computer banks and make the connections.”
    “Don’t be too sure you can read his mind,” Coop told her. “You have to guard against making too many assumptions or you’ll head off in the wrong direction.”
    Deni stared at him. “I could have sworn you were trying to tell me there was nothing there.” She pointed her egg-yellowed fork at the file folder.
    “There might be something there,” Coop assured her. “Just cool your jets so we don’t make a mistake.”
    Deni grinned. “I’m rocket powered, haven’t you heard?”
    This woman was beginning to irritate him. “You and Cozy Cat.”
    “Cozy Cat’s not the main character in my novels.”
    “So what is your detective’s name?”
    “Deni. I’m the main character. Deni Green. Like Ellery Queen’s character was Ellery Queen.”
    As Coop closed the file folder and moved it aside so coffee wouldn’t dribble on it, he noticed Deni staring beyond him. He turned and saw a frail, fortyish woman, whose prettiness prevailed despite a militarylike buzz cut, approaching them. What was left of her hair was red and she was wearing light makeup and bright red lip gloss. She had on a black blouse and black jeans, a men’s oversize black blazer, black platform shoes. Coop wondered when they would get over dressing in black.
    “Alicia!” Deni said, grinning broadly. “How funny running into you here!”
    “I came to get some takeout so I could eat in my office,” Alicia said.
    “Alicia’s my editor at Whippet Books,” Deni told Coop. “Coop, Alicia Benham.”
    Coop reached across the table and shook Alicia’s delicate hand gently. “I figured that.”
    She looked at him with emerald eyes made to seem huge by her frailty and close-cropped hair. “Oh?”
    “I tried to call you at Whippet yesterday,” he explained. “You aren’t easy to get in touch with.”
    The glossy red lips arced up in a slight smile. “If you met some of the people who try to get in touch with me, you’d understand why.”
    “Coop’s helping me on The Killer Inside, ” Deni said. She glanced at him. “That’s only our working title.”
    “You’re a writer?” Alicia asked.
    “No. Former cop, NYPD.”
    “Ah! Well, whatever you are, if you’re collaborating with Deni I suppose we do need to talk.”
    “We’re not exactly collaborating,” Deni said. “This is my book.”
    “I can come by your office this afternoon,” Coop told Alicia.
    “That’d work. Know where it is?”
    He nodded. “The address is in Deni’s previous book.”
    Coop continued looking at Alicia. “Who’s Smurger and Bold?”
    The question seemed to take her by surprise. “My husband’s attorneys. I’m in the process of getting a divorce.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Not necessary. You know Smurger and Bold?”
    “Only their names. They came up when I was getting the brush-off on the phone from the receptionist at Whippet Books.”
    “Oh. I thought for a moment you were going to hand me some