An old man in overalls was in the front yard bathing a dog. The man looked ninety, if a day, and was still staunchly constructed. He'd strung a garden hose through the half-opened kitchen window, and I assumed the other end was attached to the faucet. As I crossed the grass, he paused in his work, releasing the hose nozzle, shutting off the stream of water. He had a square, jowly face, a lumpy nose, and a straight, nearly lipless mouth. His hair was slicked back, plastered down with pomade, and even then so thin I could see through to his scalp. His skin was mottled brown from sun damage, interspersed with patches of red. His blue eyes were vivid dots under pale, sparse brows. The air smelled like wet dog hair and a pungent flea soap. A medium-sized pooch of no determinate breed stood knee-deep in a galvanized tub. He looked skinny and frail with his coat plastered to his frame, thinned to transparency. Dead fleas, like pepper, seasoned the flesh underneath. The dog trembled, whining, and wouldn't quite meet my eyes. I kept my gaze averted so as not to embarrass him.

The old man said, "Help you?" His voice was surprisingly high-pitched for a man his size.

"I hope so. I'm looking for Roxanne Faught and this is the only address I have. Any idea where she is ?"

"Ought to. I'm her dad," he said. "And who might you be?" I showed him my card.

He squinted and then shook his head. "What's that say? Sorry, but I don't have my specs on me."

"I'm a private investigator from Santa Teresa."

"What do you want with Roxanne?"

"I need information on an old case. Apparently, a girl came into the Gull Cove minimart when Roxanne was working there in 1969. I'd like to ask her some questions about the incident."

He squeezed the hose nozzle and the spray of water showered like a light rain over the dog's back and haunches. "That the one got killed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well. I guess that's all right then. I know a sheriffs deputy came by a couple times asking the very same thing."

"You're talking about Stacey Oliphant, the guy I'm working with. Is your daughter still in the area?"

"Close enough. How about this. I'll go give a call and see if she's willing to talk to you. Otherwise, there's no point."

"That'd be great."

He laid the hose aside, lifted the dog from the tub, and set him on the grass. The dog gave one of those profound total-body shakes, flinging water in all directions until his coat stood out in spikes. The old man picked up a heavy towel and gave the dog a vigorous rub, then swaddled him in the towel, and handed him to me. "This's Ralph."