“Did you say murders?” Murphy asked.

“Yes; but I’m the one asking the questions here,” McMasterson said. He raised his shotgun at Murphy again.

“Sir, remember? I’m the police?”

“Oh, that’s right. I probably shouldn’t point a gun at you. So, you were wondering about the other murder?”

“Yes.”

“Young man, terribly tragic, looked like he was on his way home from a wedding when the beast got ‘im.”

“That must be Kate’s brother,” Gregson said.

“Oh, you know him?” McMasterson asked.

“Yes; the victim is who I’m supposed to find.

“You found ‘im. Now, why don’t you leave me in peace.”

“But sir, the fog hasn’t lifted.”

“I don’t care! If you’re a real man of the law, you won’t let a little fog bother you. Here, I’ll draw you a map where I found the body. Just be sure not to eat your lunch before you see it. The corpse has been horribly mutilated.”

McMasterson sketched with the confidence of Michelangelo, but a kindergartener could have done a better drawing.

“It’s on the southern end of the swamp. A curious place to go for a walk if you ask me. There isn’t much there but a bar and 13 head of cattle.”

“You’ve been most helpful,” Murphy said.

“Always glad to help the police; you guys need as much as you can get. Gregson, it’s been a real pleasure.” McMasterson shook his hand. “Now I need to get back to my library. If you boys need anything, call first; otherwise, you might get a bullet in your head.”

Gregson and Murphy walked out the mansion doors into the semi haze.

“He was a charming fellow,” Gregson said.

Murphy looked back through the window. McMasterson was in the downward dog position next to his attractive assistant. Murphy tried to shake the image out of his mind.

“These directions say it’ll take 20 minutes to get to the bar. What do you think about the fog?”

“Let’s risk it,” Murphy said.

They got into the black Porsche and turned on the fog lights.