I shone all 200 watts of light at Evil's lying face. "Alright, E.E., you know the drill. What's your real name?"
"Evil Editor," said the man strapped to the lie detector. The solitary bulb flashed. "Couldn't you afford a detector with one of those little needles? They're much more entertaining to watch."
"When the W.I.P makes millions, I'll get a nice one. Now, where were you on the night of the twenty-third?"
"Faceless, the Zack Martinez exercise was last week." E.E. squirmed in his seat.
I could tell I was getting somewhere. "Just answer the question."
"If you must know, I was having dinner with Angelina Jolie. She's writing another memoir." The bulb on the lie detector remained dark.
I shoved a paper across the desk at him. "So you claim to know nothing about this?"
"Dracula's napkin?" E.E. leaned forward to get a better look.
"It's a query."
"The evil psychiatrist exercise was three weeks ago."
"Answer the question!"
"You do realize I haven't even glanced at my slush pile this year?"
I suspected as much. "For the record then, you've never seen this before?"
"No. Can I go now? Annie Wilkes is expecting me."
I glared at the dark bulb willing it to flash. It refused.
Evil paused by the door. "Faceless, you might want to pay more attention to details. Your query contains two misused homonyms and a missing comma. Also, your lie detector is unplugged." He dodged out the door.
I looked down. There was a scuff mark on the carpet across the power cord.
A moment later shots rang out and the hounds started baying. E.E. would get away, like usual, but that's what the blackmail photos were for.