Ivy offered me a bottle of water, took one for herself, then perched on the edge of the couch. I pulled one of the dining chairs closer to sit with her.

I said, Has anyone talked to you about this?

You mean the police?

They questioned your former neighbors last week. They pretty much spent all this past week up on Anson, interviewing people.

I had no idea. I saw the paper, and I thought, ohmigod, that's Lonnie, but the picture was so bad. I was like, is this a joke?

It isn't a joke.

This is surreal.

How well did you know him?

I picked up groceries for him a couple of times. It's not like we hung out.

Her voice took on a defensive whine, as if I had accused her of being a serial-killer sympathizer.

It's okay, Ivy. You didn't know.

Here he was with the cane, and he asked for some help. He didn't say anything obnoxious. I was going to the market anyway. What was I supposed to say, no? He was just an old man.

She flipped her head. When she moved, her hair swayed like a curtain in the breeze.

I said, Did he ask you to pick up drugs?

Uh-uh. I just stopped at the market a few times. They don't have a pharmacy.

Not prescription drugs. He was using oxycodone manufactured in Mexico. He would have gotten them illegally.

She sat taller, and her lips tightened into a bud. It was a rough way to ask, but I wanted to see her reaction.

I didn't buy drugs for him.

Okay. I had to ask.

Do you think I'm a dealer?

You might not have known what you were buying. He might have asked you to pick up a package, and you didn't know what was in the package.

Only the market.

If he couldn't drive, someone had to get them for him. I'm not saying it was you.

Well, it sounds like you are. I was just trying to be a nice person, and now you're accusing me of being a dope connection. I really resent this.

I'm not accusing you. I know it sounded like that, but I'm not.

Whatever. Am I going to have to do this again with the police?

Probably, but they're not nearly as much fun as me.

Her mouth tightened again, which is almost always a sign I'm wearing out my welcome.

My cell phone vibrated, so I excused myself and checked the call. It was Pike. I told her I had to take it, and opened the phone.

Pike said, You with the girl?

That's right. Where'd they go?

Nowhere. The Pony parked as soon as you lost them. We're on Franklin at the bottom of Hillcrest.

What about his helper?

The truck left. Four or five streets feed down from these hills, so the truck probably set up at a different location.

Okay.

If the Pony leaves, you want me to follow?

Absolutely.