"Peralta, Boyle, interesting case?" Holt asked. The two officers were huddled together and talking intently, more serious than usual.

"Yes sir, absolutely," said Boyle at the same moment Peralta said, "I'm not sure."

Holt raised an eyebrow. "Which is it?"

The two looked at each other quickly, and then Boyle acquiesced the floor to Peralta, per usual.

"Dead guy at a swanky party," Peralta summarized. "Looks like cardiac arrest, and the ME agrees. But there was a known death worker present, so ..." He trails off uncomfortably, rocking up onto the balls of his feet.

"We've got him in the interview room now," interjected Boyle. "Name's Desi Singer."

"You should always be thorough," said Holt. He was very aware of his hands in the white gloves of his uniform. He nodded toward them in dismissal and then walked briskly to his office.

"Do you think he was mad?"