I checked the peephole, expecting to see the manager with eviction papers, but it was a poorly dressed hulk. I couldn’t think of a good reason for Detective Fierro to show up at my front door. I combed my hair with my fingers. My curls are lovely when properly tamed, but look like an orange fright wig first thing in the morning. Since I slept in sweats, I was sort of dressed. He smiled when I opened the door, but I wasn’t fooled. Lots of nasty things had smiled at me lately, including a demon. “Good morning, Ms. Mahaffey.” “Miss,” I said. “It’s miss. Come on in.” My hands were faintly pink this morning. Fierro noticed everything. “Burn yourself?” “I broke a teapot. But I have plenty of coffee. Want some?” “Coffee’s good.” I gestured to the kitchen table, mercifully free of the card players, and Fierro took a seat.
