Cal reckoned he had it all just about figured.

Darlene, the victim, had spent some time with the cult back in '07. In November of that year, she split, taking with her something the cultists valued - valued a whole hell of a lot.

That didn't sit well with the Parler Jamais folks, so the sent a couple of guys over here to do her in. As for the recording, well, it was probably just to intimidate other cult members or something.

It ALMOST fit the evidence perfectly, but there were a few details that kept tugging at the seams....

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"This wise guy can't use sign language or nothing?" Sandon, Cal's partner, said in disgust. The mime was placing his palms in the air progressively higher, which communicated nothing of any obvious value.

Cal sighed, looking down at the high-tech surveillance equipment lying on the table. Equipment the police department could never have afforded. "So, what's the deal then? You some kind of spook, or are you just a pervert?"

He gestured to the pile of tapes. "Look, we got you, son. You've recorded that lady do it with her john every night for the past month. We got all...

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Locked door. Single occupant, female, age 27. No signs of a struggle. Cause of death was strangulation. Body found face-up on the bed.

Three suspects. One witness.

Cal sighed, his breath cutting a thin passage through the haze of cigarette smoke. He rewound the tape and pressed play once again. In all the surveillance tapes, there was nothing to positively incriminate any of them.

He'd tried isolating them, questioning them individually. Good cop, bad cop. Threats. The works. They were all lying about something, but they wouldn't say what Cal wanted to hear. At least one of them, probably all,...

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