I walked the entire marina, looking for someone who liked Tim, but he hadn’t a single friend anywhere. Still, no one appeared so bent out of shape about his freewheeling behavior that they’d climb aboard his boat in the middle of the night and toss him over the side, if that’s what even happened. And, like Marta, I’d found nothing on the boat that raised any red flags. I assumed the meds I’d found were for Tim’s cancer, but if they were for some kind of mental disorder, that might lend credence to his brother’s rundown of Tim’s history of depression. I’d have to wait for Sue to get back to me.

In the meantime, I’d move on. Maybe I could get Tim’s family to speak to me. I slid into my car, my mind on my next move. Reaching to start it, I glanced at my rearview mirror, catching sight of a shock of spiky blond hair ducking down inside a battered orange Chevette parked across the way.

“Oh, no, no, no.”

I got out of the car, stormed across the lot, and banged on the driver’s window. Jung was slumped over, his head plastered to the passenger seat. I could see him lying there clear as day.

“I can see you, Jung.”

He slowly rolled upright, eased the window down just a smidge. The expression on his face was reminiscent of a toddler’s caught with his hand in the cookie jar. There was a pair of giant binoculars hanging from a strap around his neck. Jung was Eldon Reese’s skulker.

“We had a deal,” I said.

“I wasn’t interfering, just observing. I swear. What’d that guy say? Why was he dancing?”

The doors on the Chevette were nearly rusted through. Through the car’s front floorboard, I could see the ground beneath. The car was unsafe to drive. It didn’t even look safe to sit in.

“There’s no backseat,” I said. The hollowed-out space behind Jung’s head clearly exposed the tail end of the vehicle’s bent metal frame. I pulled a face. “Whose car is this? And I’m using the term ‘car’ loosely.”

“Squish’s. Ten bucks a day, plus two tickets to Blue Man Group. So what’d the boat guy say? The case is hinky, right? Like I told you?”

Jung stared up at me expectantly. He was my client, technically, at least for a few more hours, so I owed him a report. Still, something didn’t seem right about the whole thing. Two days ago, he was just the weird guy on the bag end of my tuna melt. Now I worked for him, and I didn’t particularly care for the shift in dynamic. I didn’t ask who Squish was. I didn’t want to know.