“Speaking of murderers, I got a hunch today is the day we find us Jimmy and Frige’s killer. Lovable son of a bitch that he must be!”

Cohen looked over to Leetch. “Rome, if he’s half as good as I think he might be, then he’s long gone.”

“So?” Leetch shrugged. “Didn’t stop us from nailing Marcus Hogan, did it?”

“True,” Cohen said, remembering the ex-tech company CEO who murdered his financial VP and fled to Paris, before Cohen and Leetch lured him back to Portland with a phony inheritance scam.

“We’ll find him,” Leetch predicted confidently.

Cohen didn’t share his partner’s optimism, but he harbored as much, or more, determination as Leetch to track down the man he had come to think of as Carol’s killer.

They drove in silence for several minutes. Eventually, Leetch turned onto Northwest Tenth Avenue, a few blocks up from the Willamette River. Cohen stared out the window at the posh downtown towers. “Little Andrew could live in worse neighborhoods,” he said.

“Funny that,” Leetch grumbled. “The guy’s done hard time and never worked a day in his life, but he lives in a half-million-dollar loft and drives a Porsche. I ought to sign up with his financial planner.”

Cohen sighed. “I think his planner works out of Bogotá.”

“No doubt.” Leetch pulled the car up to the curb in front of Riverside Suites.

They climbed out of the car and walked up to the building’s intercom. Leetch read the number off the directory and typed in the code for Andrew Nagle. The bell rang unanswered ten times before it transformed into a steady busy tone. “Ah, drug dealers,” Leetch sighed. “They do like their sleep in the morning.”

Leetch slid a hand in his nylon jacket and pulled out his cell phone along with a slip of paper. Reading off the paper, he dialed the number and then brought the phone to his ear. After ten or fifteen seconds, he spoke into the receiver: “Little Andrew! How the hell are you?” He paused. “Now Andrew, what would your mother say about that kind of language?” The next time Leetch spoke, his tone was clipped and threatening. “Detective Leetch is exactly who the fuck I am,” he snapped. “And my partner and I have wasted more than enough time outside your building. So let us in—now!”