Majorly truncated opening credits that don't seem nearly as creepy.
Skeet's all sweaty and playing basketball by some giant cathedral with someone who is suspiciously never seen onscreen but who scores a disturbingly easy lay-up on Skeet. Protect the basket, Skeet! Box out! He's finished being schooled, so he walks off the court, where he's accosted by Det. Krantz, who says "good game." Oooh. Way to gain his trust, Detective! He asks if Skeet works there. "More like an indentured servant," says Skeet. "Father Claro says good things," says the detective, which makes Skeet suspicious, and Det. Krantz introduces himself and says, "Claro says you're a guy who likes to help out," and asks if Skeet knows a woman named Gretchen Albright. Skeet says no. Gretchen is dead. Skeet's sorry to hear that. Gretchen was murdered in her kitchen last night. Skeet wonders if there's a reason Krantz is telling him this. There is. Skeet wonders if Krantz wants to know what he was doing at the time of the murder. Det. Krantz says, "Why not?" So Skeet says he was in this old Victorian house, but why he was there is kind of difficult to explain, which is always a good thing to say to a cop investigating a homicide. "I was sitting alone in the dark waiting for the walls to talk," says Skeet. "No kiddin'!" says Krantz, who seems almost impressed, as Skeet asks if the detective has three or four hours, then says he can give him the short version: the people he works with investigate strange things. "I'm not liking what I'm hearing," says Krantz, and Skeet says, "If it helps, I didn't kill anyone," and the detective says, "It might," and swaggers off, thus ending one of the lamest interrogations ever. Then he pulls a Columbo and turns back to ask if the words "God is nowhere" mean anything to Skeet. Skeet looks like someone just stuck a crucifix up his ass, but still says, "No." The detective tells him to save some time tomorrow: "I'd like to hear the long version." He gives Skeet his best Tough Cop Glower and peels on out of there.
Over at SQHQ, Keel's doing Keel-esque things like stacking old books when Skeet walks in. "Who is Gretchen Albright?" asks Skeet. Keel's all, "Don't you mean, who was Gretchen Albright? Dude, she was murdered." Skeet brilliantly deducts that cops were already there, and Keel's all, duh, who do you think ratted you out? Skeet looks less than impressed, and whines that a little warning would have been nice, and Keel blah blah blahs about how police can tell when you're expecting them and that leads them down "certain unfortunate mental paths." Skeet doesn't have time for Keel's smug know-it-all-ness, so he just says, "Who was she, Keel?" And Keel launches into a story about Gretchen making a cake (and this is illustrated by a helpful recreation) when the glass bowl she was using shatters in the sink and she cuts herself. So she wraps her hand in a dishtowel while she goes to greet some arriving guests (you know, Keel's stories are usually chock-full of unnecessary details). When she unwrapped the dishtowel a few moments later, the phrase "God is nowhere" was written in her own blood on the towel. Skeet looks stricken and admits to lying to the police about recognizing the phrase, possibly because he was scared. Anyway, to make a short story long, as Keel is wont to do, he explains that Krantz connected Gretchen to Keel because he Googled the phrase "God is nowhere" and came up with a paper Keel wrote on hemography (writing in blood). "He wanted to know what the phrase meant. I thought it was rather self-explanatory." Skeet wants to know a couple of things: A) Why did Krantz need to talk to Skeet if he'd already spoken to Keel, and B) why Skeet's seen "God is now here" while everyone else's messages say "God is nowhere." Keel's response is that A) the detective was probably just being thorough, and B) "it's the kind of message that reveals the reader, isn't it?" Skeet considers this, while listening to the tinkly piano swelling up. "Maybe. Maybe I read it wrong." Possibly. I read "Daniel needs more beer," myself.