No holdings in the Caymans, no portfolio of stocks or options. No residue of the drug trade, no unusual income of any kind that might indicate blackmail. Frenada was either extremely honest, or so clever that not even LifeStory’s paid informants could track his holdings.

So what did Murray and Alex–Sandy think was buried here? If it was a juvenile crime, I wasn’t interested in digging that far into his past. Maybe he’d done a quasilegal deal to get preferred treatment in orders or to obtain financing. That didn’t seem any different from Baladine and Rapelec in Africa, except the scale was smaller.

I reached Murray in his office. “I can’t take on this Frenada assignment. Since you came along with Alex to try to hire me, I assume I can tell you without needing to talk to her.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Any particular reason?”

I stared at the floor, noticing the dust bunnies that had gathered around my copier. “I’m busy these days,” I said after too long a silence. “An inquiry like this would take more resources than I have.”

“Thanks for trusting me, Vic. I’ll tell Alex you’re too busy.”

His anger, more hurt than rage, made me say quickly, “Murray. You don’t know what Global’s real agenda is here, do you?”

“Alex talked the situation over with me on Friday,” he said stiffly. “If it sounds incredible to you, then it’s because you don’t understand the way Hollywood operates. Everything is image for them, so the image becomes more real than the actual world around them. Lacey’s success and Global’s image are intertwined. They want—”

“I know what they want, babe,” I said gently. “I just don’t know why they want it. In the matter of the actual world, I talked to the house dick at the Trianon. I don’t know if he’d be as forthcoming with you as he was with me, but you might check him out.”

We hung up on that fractured note. Poor Murray. I didn’t think I could bear to witness his vulnerability if Global took him to pieces.

Mary Louise came in around ten, after she’d gotten Nate and Josh off to day camp. She was going to make phone calls to Georgia for me while I pitched my wares to a couple of lawyers who were looking for a firm to handle their investigations. Such meetings often lead nowhere, but I have to keep doing it—and with enough enthusiasm that I’m not defeating myself walking in the door.

“You call this Alex woman to say you weren’t playing Global’s game?” Mary Louise asked as I gathered presentation materials into my briefcase.

“Yes, ma’am, Officer Neely.” I saluted her smartly. “At least, I told Murray.”