“White, average, good looking, but a little rough, unpolished. And I wasn’t the only one there. Maybe somebody else saw more than I did. Why don’t you go hound some of them? Try that weird guy—midtwenties, blond hair spiked all over, a real character. It looked like he and Tim were kind of chummy. Ask him what he saw.”

Blond, twenties, a real character? That sounded a lot like Jung. But it couldn’t be Jung, could it? Wouldn’t Jung have thought it important to mention that he’d attended a party on Tim’s boat days before Tim ended up dead? Why hadn’t I heard about the crasher or the argument from him? Wasn’t he my client? Hadn’t he paid for my valuable time with a yin and yang check? I swept my hands through my hair, my frustration level rising. Hadn’t I pointedly asked Jung in my office if he’d given me all the information he had? And hadn’t he answered yes? “I’ll do that,” I said, glowering, “but in the meantime, the crasher?”

“You just will not let this go, will you?”

I didn’t answer. I assumed the question was rhetorical.

He reached into his back pocket, drew out his wallet, and opened it. “Here. You want the crasher?” He pulled out a business card, thrust it at me. “He handed these out like favors. Tim didn’t look too happy about that, either.”

I read the card: VINCENT DARBY. STERLING ASSOCIATES. INSURERS. “You ever see him before?”

“Not before or since, but check the marina. When I left, I stood outside getting some air, kicking myself for letting it go with Tim. This guy breezes out a few minutes after me, walks right past, and climbs aboard a boat a few slips down.”

I turned the card over in my hand. “Which one?”

“They all look the same to me.”

“Left or right of Tim’s?”

“Left. Blue canopy. That’s all I got. Satisfied now?”

I tried handing the card back to Ganz, but he waved it away. “I don’t need it. It’s not like I can afford insurance anymore.”

I slid the card into my pocket. “One more question. How did you hear Tim’s case was closed?”

His expression hardened and he turned and walked away. “Mutt’ll see you out.”

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Vincent Darby was an insurance man. Tim Ayers was living off an insurance policy, after being disinherited by his brother. That had to be more than a coincidence. Had Darby been the one to arrange the whole thing? Was that the deal they argued about? Why, when the whole purpose of the settlement was to give those who took advantage of it a financial cushion so that they could literally die in peace?