“She has a checking account for day to day, but for serious money she comes to me. It works out better for all of us.”

Billy’s eyes rose to the sky. “I never get to go anywhere.”

“Come on, Bill,” said Brad. “We flew to San Francisco.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“It was two years ago.”

“That’s a long time.” Billy’s eyes got dreamy. One hand dropped toward his crotch. Brad cleared his throat and Billy jammed the hand in his pocket.

I turned back to Brad. “It’s not in character for Nora to take off without telling you?”

“Nora does her own thing on a limited level, but she’s never traveled for any length of time without letting me know.”

“Those trips to Paris.”

“Exactly.” Brad glanced at the brochures. “I was going to contact those resorts, but if you want to do it, you can keep the information.”

“Will do.”

He rubbed the corner of one eye. “Maybe Nora will waltz in tomorrow with a— I was going to say with a terrific tan, but Nora doesn’t like the sun.”

I waved the brochures. “These are all sunny spots.”

Brad glanced at Billy. Billy’s eyes were still aimed at the sky. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, Detective. Just wish I...anyway, thanks for stopping by. If you learn anything, please let me know.”

“There’s something you should know,” I said. “Reynold Peaty was murdered last night.”

Brad gasped. “What! That’s crazy!”

Billy froze. Stayed that way but his eyes locked into mine. Nothing absent about his gaze now.

Brad said, “Billy?”

Bill continued to stare at me. Pointed a finger. “You just said something terrible.”

“I’m sorry— ”

“Reyn got murdered?” Billy’s hands balled. “No way!”

Brad touched his arm but Billy shook him off and ran to the center of Nora’s lawn, where he began punching his thighs.

Brad hurried over, talked in his brother’s ear. Billy shook his head violently and walked several feet away. Brad followed, talking nonstop. Billy stepped away again. Brad persisted through a series of Billy’s head shakes and grimaces. Finally, Billy allowed himself to be ushered back. Flared nostrils doubled the width of his pug nose. Thick white spittle flecked his lips.

“Who killed Reyn?” he demanded.

“A neighbor,” I said. “They had an argument and— ”

“A neighbor?” said Brad. “One of our tenants? Who?”

“A man named Armando Vasquez.”

“That one. Shit, right from the get-go I had a bad feeling about him, but his application was in order and nowadays you can’t turn down a tenant based on intuition.” He tugged at a lapel. “Jesus. What happened?”

“What worried you about Vasquez?”

“He seemed like...you know, the cholo thing.”

“Where is he, Brad?” said Billy. “I wanna kill him back.”

“Shh! An argument? How’d it get from talking to murdering?”

“Hard to say.”