Allerton adjusted her notebook, empty at the moment. She drew ‘1’.

Overby continued, ‘Funny. When you know what she does – that body-language stuff – then go out to lunch with her, you watch what you’re doing, where you’re looking. Like you’re waiting for her to say, “So, you had a fight with your wife this morning, hmm? Over bills, I’d think.”’

‘Sherlock Holmes,’ Allerton said. She added, ‘I like that British one. With the guy with the funny name. Like “cummerbund”.’

Overby, staring into the interrogation room, said absently, ‘That’s not how kinesics works.’

‘No?’ Foster.

Overby said nothing more. As the others turned to the glass, he in turn examined the two members of the Guzman Connection task force present at the moment. Foster, Allerton. Then Dance walked into the interview room. And Overby’s attention, too, turned that way.

‘Mr Serrano. I’m Agent Dance.’ Her voice crackled through the overhead speaker in the observation room.

‘“Mister”,’ Foster muttered.

The Latino’s eyes narrowed as he looked her over carefully. ‘Good to meet you.’ There was nothing nervous about his expression or posture, Overby noted.

She sat across from him. ‘Appreciate your coming in.’

A nod. Agreeable.

‘Now, please understand, you’re not under investigation. I want to make that clear. We’re talking to dozens of people, maybe hundreds. We’re looking into gang-related crimes here on the Peninsula. And hope you can help us.’

‘So, I no need a lawyer.’

She smiled. ‘No, no. And you can leave anytime you want. Or choose not to answer.’

‘But then I look kind of suspicious, don’t I?’

‘I could ask how you liked your wife’s roast last night. You might not want to answer that one.’

Allerton laughed. Foster looked impatient.

‘I couldn’t answer that anyway.’

‘You don’t have a wife?’

‘No, but even if I did I’d do the cooking. I pretty good in the kitchen.’ Then a frown. ‘But I want to help. Terrible, some of the things that happen, the gangs.’ He closed his eyes momentarily. ‘Disgusting.’

‘You’ve lived in the area for a while?’

‘Ten years.’

‘You’re not married. But you have family here?’

‘No, they in Bakersfield.’

Foster: ‘Shouldn’t she have looked all this up?’

Overby said, ‘Oh, she knows it. She knows everything about him. Well, what she could learn in the past eight hours since she got his name.’

He’d observed plenty of Dance’s interrogations and listened to her lecture on the topic; he was able to give the task force a brief overview. ‘Kinesics is all about looking for stress indicators. When people lie they feel stress, can’t help it. Some suspects can cover it up well so it’s really hard to see. But most of us give away indications that we’re stressed. What Kathryn’s doing is talking to Serrano for a while, nothing about gang activity, nothing about crime – the weather, growing up, restaurants, life on the Peninsula. She gets his baseline body language.’

‘Baseline.’

‘That’s the key. It tells her how he behaves when he’s answering truthfully. When I said earlier that kinesics doesn’t work that way? I meant it doesn’t work in a vacuum. It’s almost impossible to meet somebody and instantly read them. You have to do what Kathryn’s doing – getting that baseline. After that she’ll start asking about gang activities he might’ve heard of, then about Guzman.’

Allerton said, ‘So she compares his behavior then to his baseline, when she knows he’s telling the truth.’

‘That’s it,’ Overby replied. ‘If there’s any variation it’ll be because he’s feeling stress.’

‘And that’s because he’s lying,’ Foster said.

‘Possibly. Of course, there’s lying because you just machine-gunned somebody to death. And there’s lying because you don’t want to get machine-gunned. His deception’ll be that there’s a point past which he won’t want to cooperate. Kathryn’ll have to make sure he does.’

‘Cooperation,’ Foster said. The word seemed to take on extra syllables as it trickled from a cynical mouth.

Overby noted that Foster was or had been a smoker – slight discoloration of his index and middle finger. The teeth were yellowish.

Sherlock.

In front of them, in the small, sterile room, Kathryn Dance continued to ask questions, chat, share observations.

Fifteen minutes rolled past.

Dance asked, ‘You enjoy landscaping?’

‘I do, sí. It’s … I don’t know … I like to work with my hands. I think maybe I’d be an artist if I had some, you know, skill. But I don’t. Gardening? Now that’s something I can do.’

Overby noted his nails were dark crescents.

‘Here’s what we’re looking into. A week ago a man named Hector Mendoza was killed. Shot. His nickname was Sad Eyes. He was coming out of a restaurant in New Monterey. On Lighthouse.’

‘Sad Eyes. Yeah, yeah. On the news. Near Baskin-Robbins, right?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Was— I no remember. Was a drive-by?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Was anybody else hurt?’ He frowned. ‘I hate it when children, bystanders are hurt. Those gang people, they don’t care who they hurt or don’t hurt.’

Dance nodded, on her face a pleasant expression. ‘Now, Mr Serrano, the reason I’m asking you this is that your name came up in the investigation.’

‘Mine?’ He seemed curious but not shocked. His dark face folded into a frown for a moment.

‘The day this man I mentioned, Mendoza, was killed, I believe you were working at the house of Rodrigo Guzman. It was March twenty-first. Now, while you were working for Mr Guzman, did you see a black BMW? A large one. This would be the afternoon of March twenty-first, I was saying, around three p.m.’

‘There were some cars there, I saw. Maybe some black ones but I no think so. And no BMW. Definitely.’ He added wistfully, ‘I always wanted one. I recognize a car like that, I would have gone to look at it.’

‘How long were you there?’

‘Oh, much of the day. I get to the job early, as early as the customers will have me. Señor Guzman, he has a lot of property. And there is always much to do. I was there at seven thirty. Took a lunch break maybe eleven thirty but only for thirty minutes. But, please, I am working for someone involved in the gangs? You are saying that?’ The frown deepened. ‘He a very nice man. Are you saying he involved in this death of … Men- …’

‘Mendoza. Hector Mendoza.’

‘Sí. Señor Guzman, he the nicest guy. Never hurt nobody.’

‘Again, Mr Serrano, we’re merely trying to get the facts.’

‘I can’t tell how he’s reacting,’ Allerton said. ‘He’s shifting in his chair, looking away, looking at her. I don’t know what it means.’

‘That’s Kathryn’s job,’ Overby said.

‘I think he’s a prick,’ Foster said. ‘I don’t care about body language. He’s sounding too innocent.’

Overby: ‘He’s just learned one of his company’s big moneymakers might be a banger and he’s not very happy about it. That’s how I’d act.’

‘Would you?’ Foster said.

Overby bristled but said nothing in response to the condescension. Allerton cast a sharp glance Foster’s way. He said, ‘I’m just saying. I don’t trust him.’

Dance: ‘Again, Mr Serrano, there are many questions, things we don’t know. We have had reports that the man who shot Mr Mendoza met with Mr Guzman just before he drove to New Monterey. But they’re just reports. You can see how we have to check it out.’

‘Sure. Yeah.’

‘So you’re telling me you’re certain there was no BMW at his house that morning?’

‘That’s right, Agent Dancer – no, Dance, right? Agent Dance. And I’m almost just as sure there were no black cars. And at that time I was in the front of the property, near the driveway. I would have seen. I was planting hydrangeas. He likes the blue ones.’

‘Well, thanks for that. Now, one more thing. If I showed you a few pictures of some men, could you tell me if any of them came to Mr Guzman’s house while you were there? Ideally on the twenty-first, but if not, some other time.’