I watched as a man leaving the bar did a detour toward our table. From across the room, I placed him in his midforties, but by the time he’d reached us, I’d added thirty years. His wavy hair was dark, but the color was a shade I imagined Grecian Formula would produce. His eyes were blue behind heavy black-frame glasses that had hearing aids built into the stems. He was roughly my height, five-six, but the heels on his boots gave him another couple of inches. He wore jeans, a red plaid shirt with a string tie, over which he’d buttoned a powder blue western-cut sport coat, nipped in at the waist.

He greeted Daisy and Tannie with familiarity, taking each by the hand. When all the air-kissing was over, Tannie introduced us. “This is Kinsey Millhone. Tom Padgett. He owns Padgett Construction and the A-Okay Heavy Equipment yard in Santa Maria. Daisy bought her old house from him.”

“Nice meeting you,” I said.

We made polite noises at each other and then he and Tannie chatted while Daisy excused herself.

Tannie gestured toward the empty chair. “Join us for a drink.”

“I don’t want to barge in.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve been meaning to call you anyway to pick your brain.”

“What’s left of it,” he said.

He treated us to a round of after-dinner drinks, and the conversation moved from the general to the specific, that being the Tanner house and the debate about rehabilitation. Padgett’s expression was pained. “House hasn’t been lived in since 1948. You forget I did a lot of work for Hairl Tanner, and he showed me around. Plumbing and wiring were both a mess even back then. Recent fire aside, the house looks good from the outside, but once you go in, you got a real disaster on your hands. Hell, I don’t have to tell you. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Let a house like that sit empty and first the raccoons move in. Then the termites, then the bums. It was grand once upon a time, but try bringing it back and you’ll go broke. You’re looking at well over a million bucks.”

“So I take it you’re oppose,” she said, and then laughed. “I know it’s bad, but that’s a piece of my childhood. I can’t see knocking it down. Besides, we do make some money from the property, between the oil and gas leases.”

“Well, you asked and I’m giving you my opinion. You know the rumors about rezoning. You want to save the house, you’re better off selling to developers and letting them do the work. They could turn it into offices or a party center in the middle of a housing tract.”

“Steve’s point exactly. Don’t tell me you’re in league with him.”