I gave her a hug. As I did, I whispered in her ear. “Hartley knows we were inside that liquor store.”

“So what?” Remy said.

I stood up and stared at my partner. She was becoming more fearless by the minute.

“What’s he gonna do, P.T.? Report us? You know how guilty he’d look? He demo’d the damn building the next day.”

This was a good point.

“Tell me what you’ve found,” she said. “I’m jonesing to hear about the case.”

“Well, I went looking for Christian Pelo, that clerk who got robbed,” I said. “I got lucky.”

“You found him?”

“In a manner of speaking,” I said. “I found his tibia. And then his skull.”

“Holy shit,” she said.

A bell dinged, and an announcement was made. For everyone to take their seats for the banquet. I gave Remy more of the details. Of digging under the apartment complex.

“The manager should’ve called it in a half hour ago, Rem. Direct to Sarah. But I haven’t told you the best part.”

“Spill it,” Remy said.

“Hartley owns that property,” I said. “So I think he might be conflicted running the police board.”

Remy smiled. “You mean with us investigating how an employee of one of his businesses wound up shot and buried under another one of his businesses?”

“’Xactly,” I said. Our new shorthand. Wolf style.

“So what’s your next move?” she asked.

“I dunno,” I said. “I was thinking about a leak.”

Remy motioned with her head at someone behind us.

I turned, just in time to see Deb Newberry, from the local Fox affiliate. She was dressed in black slacks and her go-to Clemson-orange blazer. Below it was a blouse with a plunging neckline.

“The stars are out tonight,” Deb said. “But they’re all hiding on the balcony.”

“Deb,” I said tentatively. “How are ya?”

“If I was any better, I’d be twins.”

“Two of you would be a lot to handle,” Remy said.

Deb ignored the jab and moved in. I smelled coffee on her breath.

“I was just talking to Chief Senza about an exposé on you two,” she said. “You know—different ways of thinking. Old school versus new school.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. We’d been burned by Deb so many times that it was tough to believe a thing she said.

“You mean Black versus white?” Remy asked.

“Maybe it’s old versus young,” I said to Remy, playing like I had a cane.

Deb gave us a look. “This would be a serious piece.”

Remy glanced at me, a glint in her eyes. “You want a lead on a story, Deb?” she said. “I’m off of work, but P.T.’s got a big one.”

Deb turned her focus on me. “And you’re just gonna hand it to me, Marsh?”

“I could give it to Raymond Kirios at the Register.”

“He is a good writer,” Remy pointed out.

“Nobody reads anymore,” Deb said.

I looked to Remy, who shrugged. “A body was dug up,” my partner said.