“When I passed them again, Cale was telling the old guy to, like, quit carping. Then the old guy told Cale not to act so holy. Then something about a bloody hatchet. But there was a lot of noise. I couldn’t really hear that part.”

“Go on.”

“Then I went back to the booth and sat with Cindi.”

“And?”

“She was all in a wad because Cale was taking too long, so she walked over there. Cale put his arm around her waist. That was nice. But it was creepy the way the old guy looked at her.”

“Creepy how?”

“Cold.” Nolan’s eyes did the saucer thing. “No. More than that. Like he hated her guts.”

“Then what?”

“The old guy said something. Then Cale said something, all in the guy’s face, like he was really mad. Then the old guy stormed out.”

“When Cale came back to the booth, did you ask him who he was talking to?”

“He said a jackass he wished he’d never laid eyes on.”

“You didn’t pursue it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ask again.”

“Cindi told me to let it go. I mean, she didn’t, like, say it. She gave me this look, and I knew what she meant. I’m not stupid.”

Yes, I thought. You are irrevocably stupid.

“Honest to God, that’s all I remember,” Lynn whined. “I’m tired. I need to go to bed.”

“How come you never mentioned this man’s hostility toward Cindi before tonight?”

“Because no one ever asked me about, you know, what happened after. Just what they were saying at the bar.”

I looked at Slidell. Your call.

“OK, honeymooners. Here’s what’s gonna happen.”

When Slidell laid down the usual “don’t leave town” spiel, Nolan shot to her feet and pointed at Raines.

“Fine. But I want this jerk out of my apartment. Mr. Get a Little on the Side is not staying here.”

So much for true love.

En route to the Annex, Slidell and I shared impressions.

“They’re both moral invalids.”

“Yeah,” Slidell agreed. “But Raines doesn’t feel right for Gamble or Hand.”

“Where was he living when Hand went into the landfill?”

“Atlanta.”

“And what motive would he have for wanting Wayne Gamble dead?”

“Exactly. But I’m still going to give the dirtbag a real close look.”

“Nolan’s description of the old guy doesn’t fit Grady Winge,” I said. “Or J. D. Danner. Perhaps Eugene Fries, but he claims to be a victim.”

“I plan to squeeze Winge first thing in the morning.”

As we pulled in at Sharon Hall, a CMPD cruiser was pulling out. Slidell flicked a wave. The cop behind the wheel returned it.

“Guess we don’t need stepped-up patrols no more.”

“You’re convinced Grady Winge killed Cindi and Cale?”

“You kidding? You saw him at that grave site.”

“All that proves is that he knew where the bodies were buried.”