I hate writing acknowledgments, not because I’m an ungrateful bastard but because I always leave out critically important people; if you’re one of the people I’m about to leave out, please just go ahead and start working on forgiving me now.

First off, thanks to my friends and colleagues at the New York City Medical Examiner’s office—I couldn’t ask for a smarter, more supportive or better-looking bunch of pathologists to work with. A similar shout-out to the many fine men and women of the New York Police Department with whom we work on a daily basis; I recently heard a lecturer tell an audience of mystery fans that cops almost never use the F-word—thank you all for proving him epically wrong, time and again.

On the topic of the F-word, my thanks to Jesse Sheidlower for seeing fit to cite me several times in the new edition of his encyclopedic work on the subject, The F-Word. While impeccably polite in decent company, I’m drawn to the profane, and am proud of the legitimization provided by Mr. Sheidlower and his cronies at the Oxford University Press. (Readers of my first novel, Precious Blood, are already slightly familiar with Mr. Sheidlower; a prominent lexicographer, he was the inspiration for the Simon Lescure character.)

My thanks also to my friends in the District Attorney’s Office of New York County, particularly the Sex Crimes/Special Victims folks, who insist that one sees even the most lovely of neighborhoods as open cesspools where horrifically violent crime is always just about to strike. Those people are also my only openly Republican friends, and thus allow me to claim fairness and impartiality during arguments about politics.

Speaking of Sex Crimes, I’d like to thank Linda Fairstein for her kind support of junior novelists—me in particular, but she’s tireless in helping all beginners out, even those who weren’t forensic pathologists working with her back when she was running the division. And speaking of crime fiction writers, Patricia Cornwell has been more than generous with her advice and insight.

Who else, who else? Lots of important people. Research assistance came from Anya McCoy, a Florida-based friend from natural perfumery circles. Ira Stone, DVM, gave me great feedback about emergency management of canine injuries. Mike Caffrey hooked me up with an insider’s perspective on EMS work. Brian Womble stopped listening to the Butthole Surfers long enough to share his vast knowledge of South Florida flora and fauna, including the two-legged kind. Lacey Burke, a sommelier at Eataly in Manhattan, was an amazing source of wine and lingerie gift advice.

In Florida, special thanks to the Major Crimes unit of the Collier County Sheriff’s Office, and a particular thank-you to Lieutenant Rob Maxfield, director of the Collier County Crime Lab. And most of all among Florida peeps, my thanks to Rob, Stephen, and David Coburn for putting up with me, and letting me drag them into the Glades and through the mangrove swamps. And to their wife/mom Marta, who has been my best buddy way back since we trained together in Miami, as well as being the Chief Medical Examiner for Collier County.

In New York, I have been sustained by a variety of individuals and organizations. My core providers have been the Village branch of ‘wichcraft, Momofuku Milk Bar, the East 10th Street branch of Spice, Stand Burger, and, most importantly, Alfred Portale’s restaurant, the Gotham Bar and Grill, where I’ve dined pretty much weekly since I first moved into the East Village in the early 1990s. Like all regulars there, I’m treated like family, except without the arguing; it makes me suspect that bickering at holiday family meals could be eliminated by having everyone pay to attend.

Speaking of family, mine have been great, too, almost embarrassingly proud of me, which is its own kind of burden, really—the sense of unworthiness is crushing. Thank you, all of you, particularly the ones who’re still speaking to me.

Thanks to the people who make it all possible: in the UK, Oliver Johnson has been infinitely patient, diplomatic and funny, and a sharp reader. Back in the US, Claire Wachtel, Heather Drucker, and Elizabeth Perrella at HarperCollins have looked after me wonderfully, and I both couldn’t and wouldn’t take a step forward without consulting my brilliant agent, Sarah Burnes of the Gernert Company. Other Gernert All-stars include Courtney Gatewood (née Hammer) and Stephanie Cabot.

Jill Bresler and Jennifer Cassetty have worked hard at holding me together. And I’ve been blessed with an excess of great friends, all of whom have looked out for me—Cricket, Mame, Alafair, Lisa, Whitney, Barbara, Jim, Jen, Sophie, Pauline, Shahla, Christine, Jane, and so many more people—thank you (shades of the B-52’s song “52 Girls”—not you, Jim Heckler). And special thanks to Kate, who left me a little scorched around the edges, but better for the experience. Probably.

I’m stopping there—if you’ve read all the way to the end just to see your name in print, and didn’t find it, I’m sorry! Look me up in person and I’ll apologize. Offer me a bribe, and I’ll include you in the acknowledgments section in the next Jenner book; next time, I’m hoping to stretch it to chapter length.