Elsewhere, a radio crackled to life. Static gave way to a boisterous radio announcer.

  "Gooooooood morning New Warren! This is Lighthouse Beacon Radio and I, as always, am the Spotlight. Take care, citizens. We’ve received word that the dreaded 'Cremation Killer' has struck again, this time in the Caverlock district. The body of Daniel Zadron was found behind Grenda's 24-Hour Diner, sadly charred to death like so many others. Local gumshoe Buck Piper was first on the scene and caused quite the scene, accusing affluent citizen and financier Sparks of Life of the dastardly deed. Lucky for him, his towering legal lion Gaul Sootmin arrived to protect his client and swat the accusation aside. Better luck next time, detective."

  Buck clicked the radio off, jaw tight. Whoever this "Spotlight" was, they had been broadcasting since the second killing, always a step ahead of the Crier Dispatch—even scooping them on the victims’ names. The Dispatch had to be furious.

  He spun in his desk chair to look out his office window. A few streets down, the light from Grenda's sign was gone. The diner had closed for the first time he could ever recall. The streets below felt muted, the city’s usual restless pulse replaced by cold unease.

  He rubbed at his eyes, fingers trembling. The grim visage of Daniel Zadron slumped next to the dumpster was etched into his memory. This killer had to be stopped. Whatever the cost. He turned back to review the case file spread across his desk.

  The fifth victim. Brandon Murray. Son of John and Pearl Murray. As far as Buck could find, Brandon had a clean slate. The kid worked at a pharmacy in Caverlock and none of his co-workers could suggest why he'd be a target for this pyromaniac. Buck wrote down the address of the parents and took it with him. Outside, he flagged a cab and gave the driver an address, but his destination wasn’t a grieving family. Not yet.

  Don Vincent Pazienza’s manor loomed from atop a large grassy mound. The mansion was made from exquisitely carved white marble that complimented the imported lush green lawn. A tall, dwarven metal fence walled it off from the street. The pointed tips were more than enough to dissuade any trespassers. The taxi pulled up the drive and parked at the front of the manor. Buck told the driver to keep the meter running. He wasn’t planning to stay long.

  The Don was outside, claws in the dirt tending to a flower garden along the side of the mansion. The flowers were pretty but the red coloration was striking for such delicate petals. Even crouched low, Pazienza was large for a lizardkin. Rumor was he came from a prehistoric lineage. Buck was inclined to agree. Everything about him screamed "Terrible Lizard."

  "Such a profound statement to see someone like you unafraid to get their hands dirty," Buck opened.

  The Don gave him a toothy smile over his shoulder. "Detective! So glad you decided to accept my invitation." His guttural voice rattled in Buck’s chest. Even in greeting, he was an ominous presence.

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  "Of course. Grant here said you were just dying to talk," Buck said, gesturing to the gnoll standing guard nearby.

  "Did he now?" Pazienza replied, slowly facing his lackey. Grant blanched, shaking his head quickly.

  Buck decided to change the subject. "Maybe not in so many words. You know how he gets. So, what can this lowly gumshoe do for you on this most auspicious day?"

  The Don rose from his knees and wiped his hands clean of dirt with a cloth from his shoulder. At his full height, he was like a towering wall. His muscular frame bulged under his dress shirt. "An apt descriptor. I'll get right to it then. You're no doubt aware of the recent…shall we say…‘incendiary’ events of recent weeks? I heard you were somewhat involved in the latest one. How fortuitous."

  He paused for a drink of water. An unseen servant instantly replaced it with a fresh glass and caught the old one that was carelessly tossed away. "This killer is beginning to concern me. The loss of a few citizens is troubling, of course. However, New Warren City isn't exactly a sanctuary. Crime is rampant or so I've been told."

  Buck bit back a retort. Half the city’s crime had Pazienza’s claw marks on it. He chose his next words carefully. "The city is a dangerous place. That's why I'm doing what I can, wherever I can."

  "Of COURSE you are!" Pazienza's grin widened. "You're one of the good ones. Just like your father. Which is why I invited you here today. You see, I want to help you put a stop to this low-life. He's interfering with one of my…branches of business."

  "How so?"

  "Several of the unfortunates had taken loans from me shortly before their deaths. Now, I know what you're thinking, but each loan was paid in full before they passed. Normally, I wouldn't think twice about it but that's a lot of unwanted attention, so I've made some donations to the families. It's the right thing to do." His hands pressed together in a mock prayer.

  Buck almost laughed. The Don should have burst into flames with that one. "How magnanimous."

  "Exactly," Pazienza agreed. "I can afford it of course, but I don't want to be seen as a bank whose clientele are punished just for associating with me. That's just bad business." He snapped his fingers and Grant stepped forward, handing an envelope to the Don who then proffered it to Buck. "Take this and use that fantastic gumshoe know-how to end this dire threat to our fair city once and for all. Do this quickly and you'll be more than fairly compensated."

  Buck almost dropped the envelope, unprepared its weight. Accepting this kind of boon—he could lose his license, his business, maybe even his life. The blackened skull of Daniel Zadron flashed in the back of his mind. He did already have his own investigation open. May as well get paid up front for once. "I see. I'll certainly do my best," he answered.

  "Do more than that, detective. I'm rooting for you." The Don grinned again as he returned to his gardening. "There's nothing more soothing than tending a garden. The ability to create life," he said as he caressed one of the flower's petals, "and the power to end it." He gripped an errant weed and pulled it out of the dirt, root and all. "Ahh, it's always nice to get rid of the 'root' of the problem, wouldn't you agree?"

  Buck pocketed the envelope and returned to the cab. Only once they were rolling did he realize he’d been holding his breath. Even at a distance, it felt like Pazienza’s teeth were still at his throat.