“What’s her name?”

“Annalise Holzer. She’s one of those people who gives you lots of details and ends up not telling you much. She considers Billy childlike, gracious, absolutely no problem. Some of that could be the rent-break Brad gives her. The building’s another Dowd property.”

“That so? Not on the BNB list.”

“Maybe the Dowds have another corporation or a holding company that doesn’t trace back to their names.”

“All that real estate,” he said. “These people have got to be hugely rich, and rich people get protected.”

“Holzer was protective, all right. But I wouldn’t trust her to know the details of Billy’s life.”

“Meaning Peaty coulda been a regular at Darling Billy’s. I’ve got to take a serious look at the guy. After I speak to Vasquez’s wife. That’s the change in plans. All of a sudden, I can’t have access to Armando until I talk to the missus.”

“About what?”

“P.D.’s being cryptic. It’ll probably turn out to be a stupid lawyer trick but the D.A. insists I check it out.”

“D.A.’s office has their own investigators.”

“Whom they pay. That’s why I’m figuring it for scut palmed off on me.”

“Where are you meeting the wife?”

“Right here in my office, half an hour.”

“I’m twenty minutes away.”

“Good.”

Jacalyn Vasquez, minus three kids and makeup and jewelry, looked even younger than when I’d seen her on Sunday. Streaked hair was tied back in a somber ponytail. She wore a loose white blouse, blue jeans, and sneakers. Florid acne played havoc with her forehead and cheeks. Her eyes had regressed into sooty sockets.

A tall honey-haired woman in her twenties held Vasquez’s arm. The blonde’s locks were long and silky. She wore a tight black suit that showcased a bikini figure. A ruby stud in her left nostril fought the suit’s conservative cut. The pretty hair and tight body sparred with a monkeyish face the camera would savage.

She surveyed the tiny space and frowned. “How’re we all going to fit in here?”

Milo smiled. “And you are?”

“Brittany Chamfer, Public Defender’s Office.”

“I thought Mr. Vasquez’s attorney was Kevin Shuldiner.”

“I’m a third-year law student,” said Brittany Chamfer. “Working with the Exoneration Project.” She amplified her frown. “This is like a closet.”

“Well,” said Milo, “one less body should help. Enjoy the fresh air, Ms. Chamfer. Come on in, Ms. Vasquez.”

“My instruction was to stay with Jackie.”

“My instruction is that you enjoy the fresh air.” He stood and the chair squeaked. Silencing it with one hand, he offered the seat to Jacalyn Vasquez. “Right here, ma’am.”

Brittany Chamfer said, “I’m supposed to stay.”

“You’re not an attorney and Ms. Vasquez hasn’t been charged with anything.”

“Still.”

Milo took one big step that brought him to the doorway. Brittany Chamfer had to step back to avoid collision, and the arm she’d used to support Jacalyn Vasquez pulled free.

Vasquez looked past me. The office could’ve been miles of glacier.

Brittany Chamfer said, “I’ll have to call the office.”

Milo ushered Vasquez in, closed the door.

By the time she sat down, Jacalyn Vasquez was crying.

Milo gave her a tissue. When her eyes dried, he said, “You have something to tell me, Ms. Vasquez?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What is it, ma’am?”

“Armando was protecting us.”

“Protecting the family?”

“Uh-huh.”

“From…”

“Him.”

“Mr. Peaty?”

“The pervert.”

“You knew Mr. Peaty to be a pervert?”

Nod.

“How did you know that?”

“Everyone said.”

“Everyone in the building.”

“Yeah.”

“Like Mrs. Stadlbraun.”

“Yeah.”

“Who else?”

“Everyone.”

“Can you give me some names?”

Eyes down. “Everyone.”

“Did Mr. Peaty ever do anything perverted that you know about personally?”

“He looked.”

“At…”

Jacalyn Vasquez poked her left breast. Milo said, “He looked at you.”

“A lot.”

“He ever touch you?”

Head shake.

“His looks made you feel uncomfortable.”

“Yeah.”

“You tell Armando?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want to make him mad.”

“Armando has a temper.”

Silence.

“So Peaty looked at you,” said Milo. “You figure that made it okay for Armando to shoot him?”

“Also the calls. That’s what I’m here to tell you.”

Milo ’s eyes narrowed. “What calls, ma’am?”

“The night. Calling, hanging up, calling, hanging up. I figured it was him.”

“Peaty?”

“Yeah.”

“Because…”

“He was a pervert.” Her eyes dipped again.

“You figured it was Mr. Peaty harassing you,” said Milo.

“Yeah.”

“Had he done that before?”

Hesitation.

“Ms. Vasquez?”

“Uh-uh.”

“He hadn’t done it before but you suspected it was him. Did Mr. Shuldiner come up with that?”

“It coulda been him!”

Milo said, “Any other reason the calls bothered you?”

“They kept hanging up.”

“They,” said Milo. Stretching the word.

Vasquez looked up, confused.

Milo said, “Maybe you were worried about a ‘they,’ Jackie.”

“Huh?”

“Armando’s old homeboys.”

“Armando don’t have no homeboys.”

“He used to, Jackie.”

Silence.

“Everyone knows he used to run with the 88s, Jackie.”

Vasquez sniffed.

“Everyone knows,” Milo repeated.

“That was, like, a long time ago,” said Vasquez. “Armando don’t bang no more.”

“Who’s they?”

“The calls. There was a bunch.”

“Any other calls last night?”

“My mother.”

“What time?”

“Like six.” Jacalyn Vasquez sat up straighter. “The other one wasn’t no homeboys.”

“What other one?”

“After the ones that hung up. Someone talked. Like a whisper, you know?”

“A whisper.”

“Yeah.”

“What’d they whisper about.”

“Him. They said he was dangerous, liked to hurt women.”

“Someone whispered that about Peaty?”

“Yeah.”

“You heard this.”

“They talked to Armando.”

“What time did this whispering call come in, Jackie?”

“Like…we were in bed with the TV. Armando answered and he was pissed off ’cause a the other calls hanging up. He’s, like, started yelling into the phone and then he’s, like, stopped, listened. I said what, he waved his hand, like, you know? He listened and his face got all red. That was the last time.”

“Armando got mad.”

“Real mad.”

“ ’Cause of the whispering.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did Armando tell you about the whispering after he hung up?”

Jacalyn Vasquez shook her head. “Later.”

“When, later?”

“Last night.”

“Calling from jail.”

“Yeah.”

“You never heard the whispering and Armando didn’t tell you about it at the time. Then, after Armando shot Peaty, he decided to tell you.”

“I ain’t lyin’.”

“I can understand your wanting to protect your husband- ”

“I ain’t lyin’.”

“Let’s say someone did whisper,” said Milo. “You figure that made it okay to shoot Peaty?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that, Jackie?”

“He was dangerous.”

“According to the whisperer.”

“I ain’t lyin’.”

“Maybe Armando is.”

“Armando ain’t lyin’.”

“Did Armando say if this whisperer was a man or a woman?”

“Armando said the whispering made so you couldn’t tell.”

“Pretty good whispering.”

“I ain’t lyin’.” Jacalyn Vasquez folded her arms across her bosom and stared at Milo.

“You know, Jackie, that any calls to your apartment can be verified.”

“Huh?”

“We can check your phone records.”

“Fine,” she said.

“The problem is,” said Milo, “all we can know is that someone called you at a certain time. We can’t verify what was said.”