“You left half your sandwich. Muna packed it up for you.” I looked up to see Jung standing in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his motorcycle boot heels, a white deli bag banging against his knees. I hadn’t heard him come in. “This is wild, huh? I’m delivering your dinner, but you work for me? It’s mind-blowing.”

I stood and began straightening up my desk. “I thought Deek fired you?”

“He hired me back. He’s got a soft spot.”

I eyed him quizzically. The idea of Deek having a soft spot wasn’t computing. Jung held the bag up.

“I don’t have time for it now. I’ve got a lead, and though I technically work for you, in every way that really matters to me, I work for me.”

Jung gave me a long, probing stare.

“What are you looking at?”

“Muna wanted me to see if you were okay, something about a guy in your booth earlier?”

“Tell her I’m fine. And then tell her she owes me a cheeseburger. . . and fries.”

“Okay.” Jung stood there, rocking. “How’s the case going?”

I banged desk drawers shut, locked them. “Jung, seriously, I’ve got to go.”

“But aren’t I entitled to a report? The contract says so. I read it. Upon request, it said.”

He returned a guileless look, his eyes as big as Bambi’s, as innocent as a two-year-old’s. I sighed and waved him toward a chair. “Sit. Five minutes.” I gave him a quick rundown of my time so far, my conversations with Cantu and Ganz, my ride out to Barrington Hills, my database searches.

“And Vince Darby,” I said. “A witness reported hearing him argue with Tim aboard his boat during a party . . . a party you allegedly attended, by the way. So why didn’t I hear about it from you?”

Jung’s eyes widened. “I should have mentioned it, right? I didn’t think it was important. It was just a party. Tim had them all the time. Darby? Yeah, I remember seeing him, but I don’t know anything about any argument. We were all there having a good time, Darby showed, the party was in full swing. I looked up, and he was gone. I remember Tim got pissed about something at one point, but whatever he was pissed about blew over. He asked for a drink, a hit, and he was all good.”

“Was Tim depressed that night?”

“Hell no. He was the life of the party till that Darby walked in. After he left, Tim looked like he got buzzkilled, but he bounced back quick. You sure they had it out?”