“I don’t think it’s that bad. Okay, so maybe a few years have gone by, but look at it this way: the killer might be ready to bare his immortal soul.”

“Why don’t you talk to Dolan? He knows a lot of north county cops. Maybe he can help, at least steer you in the right direction.”

“Nah, no deal. I already talked to him. He and Stace are taking off on a three-week fishing trip, so he told me to call you. He says you’re a terrier when it comes to stuff like this.”

“Well, I appreciate that, but I can’t track down a woman who’s been gone thirty-four years. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“You could read the articles in the newspaper at the time.”

“That goes without saying, but Daisy’s capable, I’m sure. Send her to the library periodicals room-”

“She already has all that stuff. She said she’d be happy to give you the file.”

“Tannie, I don’t mean to sound rude, but there are half a dozen other PIs in town. Try one of them.”

“I’m not comfortable with that. I mean, it’d take me forever just to fill them in. At least you’ve heard about Violet Sullivan. That’s more than most.”

“I’ve heard about Jimmy Hoffa, too, but that doesn’t mean I’d go out and start looking for him.”

“All I’m asking you to do is talk to her-”

“There’s no point in talking-”

“Tell you what,” she cut in. “Come on over to Sneaky Pete’s and I’ll make you a sandwich. Gratis, on me, completely free of charge. You don’t have to do a thing except listen to her.”

I’d already zoned out, distracted by the promise of free food. The sandwich she referred to was the Sneaky Pete house specialty, which Dolan claimed was the only thing worth ordering-spicy salami on a kaiser roll with melted pepper Jack cheese. Tannie’s innovation was to put a fried egg on top. I’m ashamed to admit how easily I can be seduced. I glanced my watch: 11:15 and I was famished. “When?”

“How about right now? My apartment’s only half a block away. Daisy can walk over from there quicker than you can drive.”