“When I got to specifics, Vasquez got laryngitis. My sense is he’s been stewing on Peaty for a while, started bubbling over when ol’ Ertha told him about my visit. For some reason, tonight he got tired of doing nothing, saw Peaty come home, and went out to tell him to stay away from Mrs. Vasquez. As they say in the papers, a confrontation ensued. Vasquez claims Peaty made a move on him, he needed to defend himself, boom boom boom.”

“Vasquez went out there armed.”

“There is that minor detail,” he said. “Maybe some lawyer will try to twist it as evidence Vasquez was scared of Peaty.”

“Alcohol or dope involved?” I said.

“Vasquez admits to four beers and that fits with the empties in his trash basket. With his body weight that might or might not be relevant, depends what the bloodwork turns up. Now let’s see if the techies are through with Peaty’s domicile.”

* * *

A room and a half bath, both tiny and putrid.

Fetid mélange of old cheese, charred tobacco, body gas, garlic, oregano.

An empty, grease-stained pizza box sat open on the metal-frame double bed. Crumbs dandruffed rumpled sheets the color of wet newsprint and green bedcovers printed with a repeating pattern of top hats and bowlers. Several, large, unpleasant stains on the sheets. Wads of dirty laundry filled most of the floor space. A waist-high stack of Old Milwaukee six-packs and the bed filled what was left. Fingerprint dust everywhere. That seemed unnecessary— the body had fallen outside— but you never knew about lawyers’ creativity.

Milo kicked his way through the jumble and approached a wooden packing crate that served as a bed stand. Cluttering the top were oily takeout menus, balled-up tissues, crushed empty beer cans— I counted fourteen— a gallon bottle of Tyger fortified wine two-thirds empty, an economy-sized flask of Pepto-Bismol.

The only real furniture other than the bed was a ragged three-drawer dresser that supported a nineteen-inch TV and a VCR large enough to be quaint. Rabbit-ear antenna.

I said, “No cable box,” and opened a dresser drawer. “His entertainment needs were simple.”

Inside were boxed videotapes, stacked like books in a horizontal shelf. Loud colors. Lots of X’s. Not-So Legal Temptresses, Volumes 1 through 11. Shower Teen, Upskirt Adventures, X-Ray Journey, Voyeur’s Village.

The bottom two drawers held clothing that looked no fresher than the mess on the floor. Under a tangle of T-shirts, Milo found an envelope with $600 in cash and a small plastic box marked Sewing Kit, filled with five tightly round joints.