I nodded. I leaned down, kissed her through the open window, a little peck on her cheek, up close to her eye. She backed out and drove off, but didn’t wave.

Earl did, though. And started walking across the street. Earl never came across the street to initiate a conversation. I was usually the one who drifted over there.

“Hey, Zack,” he said.

“Earl,” I said, smiling.

“I see things are getting back to normal, little bit more every day.” He put a cigarette between his lips, lit up.

“For sure. Got to go shopping for another car. Insurance company’s going to give us what the Civic was worth, but that doesn’t amount to much. It was pretty old.”

Earl stood three feet away from me, gazed up and down the street.

“So,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

There was a slight breeze, and his smoke blew into my face.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No problem,” I said.

We watched two cars drive by, then a minivan. “Paul,” Earl said. “You decide to let him get that tattoo?”

I shook my head. “No. He’s too young.”

Earl nodded. “I think you’re right. That’s too young. Got to be at least old enough to get drunk. That’s how most people get their tattoos.”

We shared a laugh over that one.

“Well,” Earl said, “I got work to do.”

“Same here,” I said.

I turned back to the house and Earl walked back across the street to his. I glanced back once and saw that he was watching me over his shoulder.

Shit.

now i was rethinking everything. Not just whether Earl was, in fact, Devlin Smythe. I’d pretty much made up my mind on that one. Now I was rethinking motives.

Why had Earl agreed to help me that night?

A man with a marijuana-growing operation in his basement had a lot to lose by getting mixed up in somebody else’s business, especially if that business was likely to involve the police.

Why hadn’t he turned down my request for help? Or at the very least, just given me his gun to use? Why come along?

I’d thought it was because, deep down, Earl had some sense of honor. I hadn’t turned him in, and he owed me one. But now I had a feeling there was more to it than that. That maybe Earl had acted out of self-interest. That helping me out of a jam that night had provided him some sort of an opportunity. And it seemed to me that he had made this decision around the time that Trixie and I told him about the murder of Stefanie Knight, and the roll of film that showed her in bed with Roger Carpington.

Why would Earl care about any of that? Who were these people to him?