That deserved a smile and I gave her one. “Normally, Pat would let me in. But he’s only dealing me cards he thinks he can use my help on. He wants Casey’s killer himself. He doesn’t want me spoiling his fun.”

Half a smirk dug briefly into a pretty cheek. “Because you’d just kill the bastard, whereas Pat wants to prolong the agony.”

“Some people just aren’t nice.”

A waitress came by and refilled my coffee. I nodded thanks, then stirred in sugar and cream and said, “There won’t be any cop on the door or anything…but I could be seen by a neighbor, working my little lock-pick routine. Still, it might be worth the risk.”

She gestured with a tapered hand, its nails bright red. “Why not get some help? Call Shannon’s peach-fuzz partner, Chris Peters. You said he was pretty broken up about his mentor buying it. If they were that close, good chance he has a key.”

I sipped and smiled. “Doll, you could get by on looks alone… but you don’t. That is a damn good suggestion.”

“Thank you. Want my company?”

I shook my head. “If I can get hold of Chris…and he gave me his card, with his home number on the back, offering to help if I needed any on this thing…two will be company, and three a crowd.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Hey, honey, trust me—I have other things you can do for me.”

Both eyebrows went up. “I bet you do.”

I let that pass. “We are assuming this Roger Kraft character was the driver of the Ferrari.”

“A sound assumption, I think.”

“I agree. But why was he killed?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe somebody hired the job and was tying off a loose end.”

I narrowed mine back at her. “Maybe. But what if Kraft had a grudge against young Colby himself? Clearly that was no accident outside Pete’s Chophouse, not when Roger Dodger was out driving a sports car that didn’t belong to him, while wearing a fake beard and pony tail.”

She had a slow nod going. “Did that second-in-command guy at the brokerage, Owens, hire Kraft maybe? Owens and Colby were arguing about something, you said, and it got heated.”

“True,” I admitted.

“Also, Kraft was working on Owens’s car, which happens to be the red Ferrari that almost got a lot redder. Could that be the reason for the office dust-up—Colby learned Owens tried to have him killed…?”

She shook her head and her hair went wild, then tamed itself.

“No,” she said firmly, answering her own question. “That’s dumb. Colby would’ve called the cops on his ‘friend.’”

“Probably.”

She cocked her head. “Just probably?”