I checked into a Best Western located right in the middle of the Sunnydale strip between the two ends of the city. It had an exercise room by the swimming pool, so I hit the weights and thought about Buffy and Joyce Summers, Mr. Giles and the Sunnydale police department. There were a couple of attractive women in their early twenties sitting in the hot tub, and I stole some glances at them as I lifted. I think they stole glances at me as well. I tried not to flex excessively. I wasn't sure the women could control themselves and I was in a committed relationship. Despite my misgivings, the women stayed in the hot tub until they got out and wrapped towels around their waists and left. I continued to lift and think about the case. When I was done, I had acquired an enormous appetite and a considerable headache, but I hadn't really made any headway. The whole situation was squirrelly.

I ate a T-Bone in the hotel restaurant to address the hunger, then I went into my room and called Susan to address the headache.

"Just a minute," Susan said. "Pearl honey, get down."

There was a slight strain in her voice.

"Our aging baby drape herself on you again?"

"That she did."

"So what were you reading?" Susan only sat on the couch in order to read, and to allow Pearl to lay across her lap.

"Professional journal," Susan said. "How is the case going?"

I told her.

"How typical is it for police departments to kick you out of their building when you ask them about a case?" she asked when I was done.

"Not typical at all," I said. "Police officers aren't always a chatty bunch, and at times they tend not to like me, particularly the ones who know me. But to kick me out just because I said the name Buffy Summers is extremely weird behavior. Have to honestly say I was flabbergasted"

"Is 'weird' an official diagnosis?"

"Yeah, the Sunnydale PD is officially weird."

"Why do you think this Detective Stein reacted the way he did?"

"I don't know what to think. If he simply didn't want to talk about the case, he could have told me he wasn't going to talk about the case."

"But according to what you said, this seemed to be about Buffy Summers, not the murder case."

"It did."

"Any idea why?"

"None whatsoever. It appears that no one wants to talk about Buffy Summers, not even her mother, who by the way is nowhere near as bad as the second Mrs. Summers."

"Perhaps the Sunnydale Police Department answers to this Mr. Giles as well."

"I have no idea what to think."

Susan was silent for a minute.

"Tell me what your feelings were when you talked to Buffy's mother," Susan said. "Maybe your impressions will suggest something."

"Joyce Summers was not willing to tell me anything about her daughter that Giles didn't want her to. But, that was Mrs. Summers' decision, not his."

"And he went out of his way to tell you that."

"He did."

"Which means that if she did choose to tell you something that he didn't want you to know, he wouldn't have tried to stop her."

"That's correct."

"What was your impression of Giles?"

"My first impression was that he was bookish, kind of a big nerd. But then, when he looked at me, I got a very different impression."

"And that was?"

"Scary," I said.

"How do you mean, scary?"

"I mean like Hawk."

"That's scary," Susan said. "And not something one would expect from a high school librarian. Do you think there is anything improper between Giles and Buffy?"

"Maybe, but if there is it's not sexual."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't think that Joyce Summers would permit it, much less let him in her office if that were going on."

"But you just said that you thought Giles was 'scary'."

"Yes, but Joyce wasn't scared of him. And for that matter I also didn't get the impression that she liked him much. But she respected him."

"So again, what feeling did you get from Giles about his potential relationship to Buffy?"

"I think he cares about her," I said. "I think they both care about her."

"So why wouldn't they want her found? This is a 17 year old runaway, living just to the north of Los Angeles, which has the reputation for chewing up teenage runaways by the hundreds. You are very aware of the things that can happen to runaway girls."

"I don't think they are worried about that," I said. "They're worried about something else."

"Any feeling about what that might be? An impression that you can't explain?"

I thought about it.

"Giles is like Alfred."

"Pardon?"

"He's like Alfred," I said. "Bruce Wayne's butler."

"Meaning?"

"It's like he was covering for a superhero."