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Danny turns to Jalbert. “I haven’t ever helped the police. Before this, I mean.”

“No?”

“I never had a dream like that before, either.”

“No psychic flashes at all? Maybe telling a friend there’s stuff on the cellar stairs so watch out or someone’s going to take a header?”

“No.”

“For gosh sakes don’t leave the house on the 12th of May? Twelve?”

“No.”

“The missing ring is on top of the bathroom medicine cabinet?”

“No.”

“Just this one time!” Jalbert is trying to sound amazed. His eyes aren’t amazed. They crawl back and forth across Danny’s face. They almost have weight. “One!”

“Yes.”

Jalbert shakes his head—more amazement—and looks to his partner. “What are we going to do with this guy?”

“How about arresting him for the murder of Yvonne Wicker, does that sound like a plan?”

“Oh, come on! I told you guys where the body was. If I killed her, why would I do that?”

“Publicity?” She almost spits the word. “How about that? Arsonists do it all the time. Set the fire, report the fire, fight the fire, get their pictures in the paper.”

Jalbert suddenly leans forward and grasps Danny’s hand. His touch is unpleasant—so dry and so hot. Danny tries to pull away, but Jalbert’s grip is strong. “Do you swear?” he asks in a confidential whisper. “Do you swear, swear, swear—three times, one and two more—that you didn’t kill Miss Yvonne Wicker?”

“Yes!” Danny yanks his hand back. He was embarrassed and scared to start with; now he’s freaked out. It crosses his mind that Franklin Jalbert might be mental. It’s probably an act, but what if it’s not? “I dreamed where her body was, and that’s all!”

“Tell you what,” Ella Davis says, “I’ve heard some terrible alibis in my time, but this one takes the prize. It’s way better than the dog ate my homework.”

Jalbert, meanwhile, is shaking his head and looking sorrowful… but the eyes don’t change. They keep crawling over Danny’s face. Back and forth they go. “Ella, I think we need to clear this man.”

“But he knew where the body was!”

They’re working off a script, Danny thinks. Damned if they’re not.

Jalbert continues to shake his head. “No… no… we need to clear him. We need to clear this one-time-only psychic janitor.”

“I’m a custodian!” Danny says, and immediately feels foolish.

“I’m sorry, this one-time-only psychic custodian. We can do that because the man who raped Miss Yvonne didn’t wear a prophylactic, and that left a goldmine of DNA. Would you mind giving us a swab, Danny? So we can eliminate you from our investigation? No strain, no pain, just a Q-tip inside your cheek. Does that sound all right?”

Danny doesn’t realize how ramrod straight he’s been sitting until he settles in his seat. “Yes! Do it!”

Davis immediately dips into her bag again. She’s a good Girl Scout who comes prepared. She brings out a packet of swabs. Danny is looking at Jalbert, and what he sees—maybe—is the briefest flicker of disappointment. Danny’s not positive, but he thinks Jalbert was bluffing, that the rapist-killer actually did wear a rubber.

“Open wide, Mr. Psychic Custodian,” Davis says.

Danny opens wide and Davis swabs the inside of his cheek. She looks approvingly at the Q-tip before popping it into the container. “Cells tell,” she says. “They always do.”

“Carrier’s here,” Jalbert says.

Danny looks out the window and sees a flatbed pulling into the parking lot. Ella Davis is looking at Jalbert. He gives her a nod and she delves into her bag again. She comes out with two thin bundles of paper held together with paper clips. “Search warrants. One for your truck and one for your home at…” She consults one of them. “919 Oak Drive. Would you care to read them over?”