I’d been ignoring it all day. So many calls were coming in about Northeast Georgia Crematorium. Tyrone had called twice too, but I wasn’t ready to speak to him. I looked at the display. Media? Or possible new business? I sure couldn’t live on my consulting fee from APD. “Keye Street,” I answered. I’d left Rauser at the station to deal with bosses and seventeen investigators and six open murder cases. I’d come home to take care of my cat before hitting the office to take care of my business. Larry Quinn would be waiting for a full report from the crematory, I knew, champing at the bit. Now that I was looking at a ball-game date, hair and makeup would be a snap. “Dr. Street, it’s Mike McMillan. How are you?” “Well, I’m out of Big Knob, which means I’m probably doing better than you are, Agent McMillan.” “I wanted to thank you for the excellent detective work and for notifying us right away. And not speaking with the media. I imagine you’ve had plenty of opportunities.”
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