He did a lot of listening, ended up holding the phone away from his ear. “Clive was right about her being surround sound. And she’s got reason to yell, seems the prince has a bad-check problem. As in three straight months of child support bouncing. She put in for a wage garnish, that’s what she thought I was calling about. Unfortunately, she does verify that he was in Mississippi when he says he was. Stayed with her and the kids until he ‘went off to Biloxi to see that insane bitch mother of his.’”

He stretched his legs. “Back to nowhere at warp speed.”

Memos and message slips blanketed his desk. Public Affairs had called to inform him that Ella Mancusi’s murder might be on the news tonight, he needed to be available for comments if necessary. Sean Binchy had phoned twice, no message. Gordon Beverly wanted to know if any progress had been made on Antoine.

I said, “Sixteen years, it’s still fresh for them. But Tony, with a brand-new loss, hasn’t called to ask about Mom.”

“Funny thing ’bout that?” He phoned the cop watching Mancusi, confirmed a clear pattern: The subject stayed in his apartment all day, emerged late afternoon for the brief drive to the same food stand, ate a burrito in his car, littered, returned home.

Sean had taken the initiative to canvass the block of Villa Entrada where the Bentley had been abandoned. No neighbor had seen or heard a thing, no one was aware of any juvenile delinquents in the neighborhood prone to GTA.

No sign of Kat Shonsky’s Mustang.

He played with Gordon Beverly’s slip. “I’m starting to feel like a family counselor. At least Kat’s mother hasn’t gotten past her denial yet.”

“She might if you asked her for a blood sample.”

“Mitochondrial match to the blood in the Bentley? Let’s see how the initial request is doing.”

He logged on to the New Jersey lab’s site. “Still way at the back of the line and without a confirmed felony, it’s gonna stay there. Okay, time to disappoint the Beverlys.”

I said, “I still don’t understand why Texas doesn’t pressure Jackson to be specific before you waste all this time.”

“Because it’s not about logical or ethical, Alex. It’s politics.” He swung a big foot onto the desk. Papers scattered and fell to the floor. He made no attempt to pick them up. Unwrapped a cigarillo and bit down hard. Wood splintered. He inspected the shattered tip, tossed the whole thing into the trash. Yanking a drawer open, he pulled out a thin blue folder. “Let’s give Antoine’s buddies another try.”