On the way downstairs I felt a faint twinge of conscience. What had Jonas Carver ever done to me that I should invade his office? If he came into my place rummaging through my files I’d break his kneecaps; he’d have every right to do the same to me.

Gabriella certainly would have disapproved. Her face set in stern lines, telling me I had been a very bad girl, followed me into my dreams.

27

Down the Street and Through the Diner

Before going to bed I took the precaution of slipping a note under Mr. Contreras’s door. I didn’t want to be awakened at the crack of dawn by his frantic leaning on my bell. I also unplugged my phone. As a result I managed almost six hours sleep, enough to get me going, although not with any real enthusiasm.

I hadn’t been running for several days and badly needed the exercise, more for my mental than my physical well-being. The small of my back no longer ached, but I could feel the stiffness in the muscles when I did my warm-up routine. I’d have to take a chance on the guys who beat up Lotty hunting for me.

I left my gun at home. It’s too hard to run with a shoulder holster under your sweatshirt—the gun digs into your breast in an unpleasant way. I kept to side streets instead of the more pleasant route over to the lake, and made it home again without incident. After a shower and a late breakfast—fruit, yogurt, and a toasted cheese sandwich to make it do for lunch as well—I tried to figure out what to do next.

I had to talk to Chamfers about the attack on Lotty. The cops claimed they’d covered it and that he was clean as hand-laundered money, but I wanted to hear it from him in person. I also needed to go to the public library and do a computer search on Jason Felitti. Presumably he was a brother to Dick’s father-in-law, or maybe an uncle, but I’d like more information than that. I wondered if anyone at the Bank of Lake View would talk to me about Mrs. Frizell. Probably not, but it was worth a try.

I looked at my watch. All that would have to wait. The first thing I needed to do was see whether anyone at Paragon Steel would talk to me.

The decision on what to wear was complex. I needed to look professional for a conversation with Paragon managers. I wanted to be cool. I needed to be able to carry my gun. And I needed to be able to run if necessary. In the end I decided on jeans with a silk houndstooth jacket. It would look professional in California. That would have to be close enough.