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“And that, Lawrence Considine, is why you killed Ramsey Stevens.” Bowie Crapster stood triumphantly over Considine as the man cradled his face in his hands. I had to hand it to Crapster. He’d caught something I had missed. He would dismiss any hint that he’d done it through shrewd observation and deduction. He was much more likely to credit his supposed psychic gifts. But a bust is a bust, and I knew he’d give the Morgan Police Department credit for it, at least publicly. Despite Crapster’s disingenuous modesty, I suspected the media would learn of his contribution to Considine’s arrest,