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Chapter Ten I treated myself to one of those dollar-and-a-quarter-an-hour parking lots and then found the M Street address that Murfin had given me. It was a fairly new building just east of Connecticut Avenue on the south side of the street. I rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, walked down the hall, and went through a door that was lettered: THE ARNOLD VULLO FOUNDATION. He intimated there might be some clarification of the position of the district attorney by late this afternoon. What about the forks? I said. Not the salad forks, just the regular ones. Well, shit, Dino said. How much alike you and Slick are. A detective — Lord, I hope none of our people are in trouble. Fortunately, Dino is in charge of that. Hes the police commissioner. He and I were partners when, in my youth, I was an NYPD detective. No, you wont be. She unlocked the door, but the chain was still on.What do you want? she asked. Ive noticed the cigarette. Hard to miss. What did you do with that? What about cameras, security card logs? The jaws tensed.I aint afraid of cops. In Ames, Iowa, she said. My parents both taught at the university there...