I'd seen a tire iron in the past week. I knew it was only one of millions in the world, and the chances were remote that I'd seen the very tire iron used on Pudgie's head. Still, it seemed like a good mental exercise. Where had I seen tools? McPhee's automobile upholstery shop, both in the two-car garage where he sat to smoke and in the second garage where Dolan and I had found the Mustang. Also Cornell's garage where I'd seen him at work constructing a dog house for his daughters' pup. The question was, did any of these locations warrant another look? It seemed like a waste of time except for the fact that I had nothing else to do. While Detective Lassiter and the deputies were out combing the area surrounding the Tuley-Belle, the killer might have scrubbed the blood and brains off the murder weapon and put it back where it'd been. So finding it wouldn't mean anything and not finding it wouldn't mean anything, either. Well, that was dumb. I decided to try something more productive.

I started the car and went back to the Ocean View. I wanted to call Felicia and see how she was doing. I was also interested in the arrangements she'd made for Pudgie's funeral. My message light was blinking. I dialed 6 and picked up a message indicating that Lieutenant Dolan had called at 10:00. It was only 10:20 now, so I was hoping I'd catch him before he left the house again. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, Lieutenant, this is Kinsey. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Sorry I missed your call earlier."

"That's okay, though with all these phone calls flying back and forth, Stacey really doesn't need to come back. I think I'm talking to you guys more now than I did when you were here."

"Don't tell him. He can't wait to get down there and back to work."

"So what's up?"

"Nothing much. We're restless and bored. Hang on. Here's Stacey. He has something he wants to say."

He handed the phone to Stacey, and we went through an exchange of pleasantries as though we hadn't spoken in days. Then, he said, "I've been thinking about this Baum guy and he bothers me. I got sidetracked and left without asking him for leads. Stands to reason she was killed by someone she knew, so let's broaden the search. Can you check it out for me?"

"Sure. Give me the address of the car lot and I'll pay him a visit."

Before I left for Blythe, I put in a call to Pudgie's sister. She sounded better; subdued, but not weepy. She probably found it therapeutic to be caught up in the clerical work that follows in the wake of a death. I could hear the murmur of voices in the background. "You have people there?"

"Friends. Everybody's been great. A cousin stayed with me last night and another one's driving in from Phoenix."