“You’re sure she wasn’t meeting with anyone else here?” I asked.

“Not that I know of,” she said, finally pulling her eyes off the glass door. She glanced up at the sun like it had crapped on her shoulder. “Jesus, it’s hot.”

I finished the sandwich and balled up the foil it had come in. “Wanna go inside?”

She glanced at the sliding door again, then looked at me. “No.”

I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t looking forward to going inside either. A lot of things had happened in my place in the years I’d lived there, but this was the first time it had housed a dead person.

“I brought the files,” Miranda said. “Everything I could find.”

“Great,” I said. “Darcy have any family?”

“I don’t think she was conceived immaculately,” she said. “But I never met them.”

Good to see Miranda hadn’t lost her edge. “So what are you going to do?” she asked. “I don’t know yet.” “Yet? What are you waiting for?”

I knew Miranda was probably having a tough time of it. Her friend and boss had been killed. She’d flown down at a moment’s notice with no plan.

But I didn’t need her shit.

“Miranda, let’s get something straight,” I said, staring at her.

She returned the stare, the giant oversized sunglasses making her look like a bumblebee.

“If you think you’re gonna hang out here and run the show, you can forget it. Darcy brought a bunch of crap into my life that I’m still trying to get in order, and I’m not sure how long that’s gonna take. And I’m sorry about what’s happened to her, and if I can help the cops figure it out, I will.” I reached over and pulled the sunglasses down her nose so I could see her eyes. “But if you give me a single second of shit over any of this, I’ll stuff you in the coffin you arrived in and float you out to Hawaii.” I pushed the glasses back into place.

I turned away from her and settled into my chair, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm my face.

After a moment, Miranda said, “Fine.”

I opened an eye and saw her lay back in the lounge chair. “Yep.

It is.”

“But Darcy was right about one thing,” she said. I shut the eye again and went back to feeling the sun. “What was that?”

“You really are kind of a dick.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

“What do you know about the two men Simington killed?” I asked.

“Not much,” Miranda answered, tilting her head in my direction. “They were Mexican nationals, probably with fake working papers.”

The papers weren’t hard to get and neither was work. If you were willing to take money under the table and endure the risk, anyone coming over the border illegally could find employment.

“Were their families ever interviewed?” I asked.

Miranda thought about that, then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure that they were in the States. Most of the information about them came from your father in his confession.”

That didn’t surprise me. Two illegal aliens involved in criminal activity. No one on this side of the border would have cared enough to track down their families. And once they got the guy they wanted—Simington—it was case closed.

I was pondering that when Detectives Klimes and Zanella came strolling up the boardwalk.

Klimes held up a fat hand in greeting. Even his sweat had sweat on it. “Afternoon, Noah.”

Zanella glared at me and didn’t say anything.

I smiled at Zanella, then looked at Klimes. “Hey.”

Klimes nodded at Miranda. “Hello, miss.”

She sat up in the lounge chair and pulled the glasses off her face, squinting at him but saying nothing.

“You are?” Klimes asked, with a smile.

“Hotter than hell,” she said, frowning at him. “Who are you?” “Detective Klimes with the San Diego PD,” he said, still smiling. He motioned at his partner. “This is Detective Zanella.”

Zanella was still glaring at me.

“This is Miranda,” I said. “She worked for Darcy Gill.”

Klimes raised an eyebrow. “Really? Tremendous. Saves me some time. Would you mind taking a walk with Detective Zanella so he might ask you a few questions?”

She cocked her head at Zanella. “What happened to your mouth? It looks like someone punched you.”

The muscles around Zanella’s jaw quivered, the various shades of purple at the corner of his mouth flushing. I thought I could make out the imprints of my knuckles in the bruising, but I wasn’t sure.

“Miranda,” Klimes said, offering her a big hand to pull herself up. “Would you mind?”

She looked at me, and I nodded.

Klimes helped her up, and she stepped over the wall next to Zanella.

She leaned in closer to him. “Are your teeth loose?”

Zanella glanced at me and then led her down the boardwalk.

Klimes fell into the chair Miranda had been sitting in. “Gonna take Zanella awhile to get over that punch.”

“Gonna take me awhile to get over his being such an asshole.”

“I love a good catfight,” Klimes said, letting out a chuckle. “We got a description of a guy in the area around here early this morning.”

“Someone saw something?”

“Two people gave us the same rough description,” he said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his hand. “A man, on the boardwalk about an hour before we got your call.”

“Was he with Darcy?”

“No. Alone. But both wits said this guy looked out of place. Moving too fast, head down, unfriendly. Male, about six feet, not sure on the age,” he said. “Not much else to distinguish him.”

“If we sit here for five more minutes, we’re gonna see at least five guys go by that fit that, Klimes.”

He shaded his eyes from the sun. “I know. We’re gonna do some door to door and see if we can turn anything else up.” He shifted in the chair, the seat groaning beneath his bulk. “You run across anything new?”

“Not really.”

“No, or not really?”

“No.”

“That name you tried to slip by me the other day? I ran it through our computers.”

“Landon Keene?”

“That’s the one. Couple of things. Assaults, weapons. Done some time.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope. So where did that name come from?”

I thought of my father tossing it out there, like bait. I had bitten, and yet it had gotten me nowhere.

“I don’t know who he is,” I said. “But if I find out, I’ll tell you, Klimes. I promise.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes hard. “Not what I asked.” He smiled, letting me know he knew I was avoiding the question. “But I’ll settle for that for now.”

“You know anything about a Benjamin Moffitt?” I asked.

“The casino guy?” Klimes said. He rolled his massive shoulders and shrugged. “Like all those types, you hear rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Gaming industry never brings in the cleanest folks, you know? There’s always some doubt as to the legitimacy of those running them. Nature of the business.”

“Anything specific on Moffitt?”

“Nothing specific enough to get a hard-on over,” Klimes said. “Some whispers about money laundering, maybe some payoffs to the gaming regulators. Nothing that would make him any different from his peers.” His eyes sharpened. “Why?”

“Simington was employed as a security guard. At casinos owned by Moffitt.”

Klimes rubbed a perspiring hand across his chin. “Well, wouldn’t be the first time a piece of crap worked in that job. No guarantee that Moffitt even knew him, though. Not like he’s gonna mix with the help.”

“Sure.”

“Coulda been a guy like Simington, with all those debts, was working it off.” Klimes shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ll ask around.”

Miranda and Zanella appeared at the wall. “All set?” Klimes asked. Zanella glared at me. “Yeah. All set.” I smiled at him. His eyes iced over.

“You’ll be in town for a while, young lady?” Klimes asked.

Miranda shrugged. “I don’t know. I just got here before Mr. Charm dragged me away and asked me a bunch of questions that he must’ve learned from Miami Vice.”