“And it was the same woman at Gate Six on August twelfth.”

Harmon started to talk over her, and Vance raised one hand, and he stopped.

“The board will not take up the personal matter of the twelfth,” she said.

“That belongs elsewhere.”

I filed that away with everything else I could not ask about yet.

“Sergeant Conroy,” Vance said.

“The floor is yours.”

I stood and set the brass clipboard clip on the table first, so the board could see what held the paper together.