Mr. Dreadlocks actually flinched as he passed Heinrich.

Kids these days, Heinrich thought, shaking his head.

The last one out closed the door behind her.

Heinrich rounded on his client.

“What the hell did you lead me into? Did you know that mug was going to be waiting there for me?”

Brixton wore a clueless expression on his face. Heinrich spelled it out for him.

“Wanda’s dead. I showed up half an hour before I was supposed to, but a minute too late to save her. The murderer was either going to take off or wait for me and give me the same treatment. So tell me, you piece of shit, just what the fuck is going on?”

Brixton’s shocked sputtering told Heinrich that the idiot really didn’t know the answer. “W-what do we do?”

“It’s out of our hands. Homicide is over at the studio now. I just spent an hour debriefing Detective Fowler of the NYPD about your case.”

Brixton buried his face in his hands. “Oh, God. It’s going to be all over the papers. What will happen to my business? And Dad’s ministry?”

Heinrich shook his head in disgust. A woman was dead and all this hipster could think about was his reputation? The rich were all the same, no matter what the generation.

Oh, and Daddy was a preacher. Wonderful.

“Look, you threw me into this with the impression that I was doing a typical fetch-the-runaway-wife job. Routine stuff. But now I got a body on my hands and a killer who knows my face. So tell me everything, and I do mean everything.”

Brixton slumped in his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, Heinrich could see Brixton’s employees staring at them over the tops of their computers.

When Brixton spoke, he whispered, though the glass was soundproof.

“Going to Amsterdam wasn’t actually Casey’s idea. Zhe was contacted by a production company in The Netherlands called 666 Entertainment.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“They do photo spreads and movies with a satanic theme, mostly with a BDSM slant. There’s a huge underground market for niche stuff like that. They offered zir good money. Plus zhe could have zir own work in the Red Light District during off hours.”

“Why take the kid?”

Brixton shrugged, his head hung low. “I don’t know.”

Heinrich paused. “They don’t make … other kinds of niche stuff, do they?” Heinrich’s gut knotted as he said the words.

Brixton’s head snapped up. “No! Casey would never agree to that. Zhe’s a good mother!”

“Good enough to rob her husband blind and abandon her infant.”

Brixton’s eyes widened. “Serenity! What if they go after her?” He pulled out his phone and called the daycare center. After a minute he got off, obviously relieved. “I need to pick her up just to be on the safe side,” he said.

“And check into a hotel. Detective Fowler will be calling you once he’s done with the crime scene.