Whiplash

What do you think?'

Georgie was looking toward Erin's colorful living room, with bright pillows tossed on the green-and-white- striped sofa, a huge red beanbag in the corner, and framed posters of Degas ballet dancers on the walls. 'I don't know,' Georgie said, taking a step toward the living room. 'Maybe you're not such a good roommate.'

'Hey, anyone who can teach smart-mouthed kids how to demi-plie has to be a good roommate.'

Georgie said, 'You are a good dancer.'

'Yep, I can dance up a storm. My grandmother told me my second arabesque was the most graceful she'd ever seen. Hmm, I think she told my mother the same thing. Anyway, maybe I could give you extra pointers. For free. I've got a surprise for you in your bedroom.'

'A surprise?'

That got the kid's attention. 'All surprises are better if you have to wait awhile.'

Georgie was nearly humming with excitement. She'd scored a point on that one, Erin knew, and tried not to smile. Then Georgie said as she touched her fingertips lightly to the leaves of an African violet, 'Can you cook?'

'Hard to get, aren't you? Sure, nearly as well as I can dance. Wait'll you taste my Nutcracker Brussels sprouts and Swan Lake cabbage salad.'

The little girl grabbed her stomach. 'Eeew! Daddy, tell her I can do the cooking, I know some great recipes. Daddy loves them.'

Bowie laughed. 'Her hot dogs with chili and grated cheese on top and her famous Special K with sliced baked apples stirred in are the best I've ever had.'

'That does sound good,' Erin said. 'Hmm, maybe we could work something out.'

'Daddy washes my clothes for me when Glynn doesn't. Will you, Erin?'

'Okay, maybe I could do that.'

'And ironing-?'

'That's pushing it, kid. Your dad can iron for you before he goes to bed, how about that?'

'I just don't know, Erin. Daddy says he's got some real heavy stuff to do. I don't know if he'll ever go to bed until he catches these bad guys.'

Erin didn't want to, but she looked up at Bowie Richards-Special Agent Bowie Richards, SAC of the New Haven field office-and recognized him for the predator she knew he could easily be. She wasn't fooled for a minute by the thankful father who saw her as his salvation. If only he knew. She'd already cursed herself from here to Bratislava thinking this over. She'd done it for Georgie, but she'd also realized if she was careful, she could work with this. Just maybe when he came over to visit his daughter, she could be subtle enough so he'd never know she was easing information out of him. She could do subtle well, her case successes told her that. The huge ball of fear she'd felt since this morning dissolved a bit in her belly.

She saw Bowie Richards look at his watch. She got to her feet and shook his hand, a big hand, callused. 'I'll even iron her clothes, but I draw the line there. Georgie, you've got to make up your own bed.'

The look of absolute relief on his face nearly made her laugh. 'Georgie's been making her own bed for two years now, haven't you, baby?'

'I'm seven years and six months old now, Daddy, I'm not a baby.'

'How could I be so blind? Forgive me.' He went down on his haunches and hugged her, breathed her in. 'I'll come visit whenever I can, but like I told you, I'm up to my earlobes in a big gnarly mess right now.'

'Will you come back for dinner tonight?'

'No, sweetie, I'm sorry. I've got to have dinner with two hotshot FBI agents the bosses sent up from Washington.'

'And they need you to show them what to do, right?'

She believed in him absolutely, Bowie thought, looking at that precious face and huge dark blue eyes, her mother's eyes. He nodded. 'Yes, sweetie, they need my help.'

He kissed his daughter again, told her to mind her manners, ruffled her dark brown hair, his hair, and rose. 'Thank you, Ms. Pulaski, I owe you big for this.'

Erin prayed she'd never have to collect on the debt.

And so it was done. Erin had a roommate for two days, then they'd reevaluate, Bowie had said in a hopeful voice.

Georgie shook her head and said in a too-adult voice, 'He's worried, I know he is, but he doesn't say anything. Some German man got killed in Van Wie Park, and Daddy's got to figure it all out. He said he found out who the man was because of his teeth. He didn't have any ID either. I heard Daddy say that on the phone. I hope the agents from Washington will be able to help.'

So the man who was killed was German? If he was German, he was almost surely connected to Schiffer Hartwin. He didn't have any ID? Bowie figured out he was German from his teeth? So that meant Bowie recognized German dentistry? Well done. What about his fingerprints?

She'd have to find out about that. She smiled down at Georgie. 'We'll eat in an hour, that okay with you?'

'Will we have Nutcracker food?'

'Nah, not tonight. I've got a macaroni and cheese casserole in the oven. Now, kiddo, let me show you your room.'

'What's my surprise?'

'It's in your room. Let's take a look.'

Erin opened the door and Georgie charged in to see a barre set against a long glass wall. 'Now you can practice and practice,' Erin said. 'I even lowered it for you. What do you think of that?'

Georgie had obviously nourished higher hopes, but the kid was polite. 'It is a beautiful barre, thank you, Erin,' and that little voice told her another surprise would be a lovely thing for Erin to produce. Long day for the little girl, she thought, and so full of change.

Erin said, 'You know, if you don't want the mac and cheese, I could fry us up a mess of liver and put Cool Whip all over the top.'

The little girl laughed and laughed as she walked over to lightly run her fingertips over the smooth wooden barre.

When, Erin wondered, did little girls, seven years and six months, usually go to bed? She had a feeling if she asked Georgie, she'd lie to her, clean.

They had a successful meal of mac and cheese, obligatory green beans, and a small salad thrown in. After an hour playing on the barre and two TV shows, Erin looked over at the droopy-eyed Georgie, who'd sworn her daddy never made her go to bed until very late, and dialed Bowie Richards's cell.

'Richards. Yeah?'

He sounded harried.

'It's Erin Pulaski. When does Georgie usually go to bed?'

There was an instant of stark silence. She could see him firmly bringing his brain back to the mundane. 'An hour ago, at seven forty-five. She got you, huh?'

'Oh yeah.' And she hung up.

B owie laid his cell next to himself on the car seat. Sherlock eyed it as it slid into her. She picked it up and handed it to him.

'Oh, thank you,' he said, gave it a baffled look, and stuck it in his pocket. 'That was Erin Pulaski, she's my temporary babysitter, taking care of my daughter. She's, ah, a private investigator here in Stone Bridge, as well as my daughter's ballet teacher.' He shook his head, flipped on his left-hand turn signal. 'Some combination.'

Savich said from the back seat where he was working on MAX, 'Her name's Georgie, right?'

'Yeah, today she told me she was seven years and six months and not a baby anymore.' He shook his head, grinned. 'I'll tell you, it seems like she was wearing diapers and drooling just last week. Tell me about your little boy.'

They spoke to him of Sean and their dog, Astro.

'Georgie wants a dog, what kid doesn't? We'll have to see.'

The evening was cool, the moon at half-mast, the sky clear and studded with stars. Bowie said, 'The