“I deduce from your uncharacteristic silence that this is your first time hearing any of this?” I could almost see the self-satisfied grin on Marta’s face. I’d seen it before. I knew it well. “My informed opinion, which none of the evidence proves wrong, is that Tim Ayers simply got tired of fighting a losing battle and checked himself out. We didn’t find a note, but that’s inconclusive. Bottom line, there’s no smoking gun. I know because I looked for it, and didn’t find it. Now everybody’s okay with moving on, except for your pal Byson. When he kept harping on about murder and killers, I even asked him, why anyone would go to the trouble of killing a dying man?”

“What’d he say?”

Marta chuckled. “He didn’t have an answer for that one, and neither do I.”

“You trust the brother? He could have been playing you. He and Tim weren’t close.”

“I don’t get along with my brother, Manuel, either,” Marta said, “but I wouldn’t kill him, at least not intentionally. The brother, Stephen, seemed okay enough, a little stiff in the neck for my taste, but I got the impression all this came as sort of a relief.”

“Where was he the night Tim died, do you know?” I asked.

I heard a door open and male voices speaking loudly. Marta said nothing. Then the voices trailed away.

“You’re in the stairwell?”

“It’s what you’ve reduced me to,” she shot back. “You’ve worked suicides.” There was a note of challenge in her tone. “How many suspects did you question?”

I massaged my forehead, just above the eyebrows, where a headache was starting to form. “Is the boat still at the marina?”

“Far as I know. We had no cause to haul it away. Satisfied now? Or would you like to poach another of my cases? I’ve got a desk full. You can take your pick.”

“Again, I do not poach.”

“Yeah, you do. Now tell Byson to get lost.”

The line went dead. Glowering, feeling put upon, lamenting the time I’d wasted wallowing in guilt and worry for someone I barely knew, I grabbed my jacket and headed to Deek’s to speak to Jung about the virtues of forthrightness. God help the man.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I flew through the door, scanned the place, and found Muna holding up Deek’s counter, sipping coffee out of a mug, the aroma of fried eggs, bacon, and hash browns floating over the tables. The few diners present looked like they’d been sufficiently attended to, at least for the moment, so Muna was taking a break. No sign of Adele. Looked like this time her huffy resignation might stick.

“Where’s Jung?”

Muna’s brows lifted. “And hello to you, too, Miss I Was Raised By Wolves.”

“Good morning, Muna. And how are you this fine, wonderful morning?”