‘Nice. Exactly what are you hoping for? Do you think he’s going to confess to Justin’s murder between bites of fried pickles?’

‘Maybe.’

Annalie bit into a chicken wing and licked around her lips with her tongue. ‘I checked the reports on Justin’s death. He was found at a dump of a motel next to the dog track, right? Three bullets in the head, execution-style. The police searched the room and found a brick of cocaine and ten thousand dollars squirreled away inside the guts of the microwave.’

‘I know.’

‘And now you’re watching a known drug dealer.’

‘A drug dealer with ties to Ramona Cortes. And Diane and her son.’

‘Drugs are still the common denominator,’ Annalie said. ‘Are you sure Justin didn’t have his fingers in the wrong pie?’

Peach opened her mouth to snap at Annalie, but she controlled herself. ‘Well, that’s why I’m here. I need to know what Justin wanted with Macy. I don’t care where it leads. I just want the truth.’

‘Even if the truth is what everyone says?’ Annalie asked softly.

‘Yeah, even that,’ Peach replied. She couldn’t resist adding: ‘But it’s not.’

An hour passed slowly at the bar. Peach drank her O’Doul’s. Annalie drank her Corona. When they were done, they ordered two more, and when they finished the wings, they ordered quesadillas. She kept listening and recording Macy’s conversation, but he stuck to rap singers, nightclubs, and sexual positions. He had nothing to say about politics, or Justin, or Diane Fairmont, and his hints at drugs were aimed at the girls. Annalie was right; he was too smart to say anything incriminating in public.

The beer was nonalcoholic, so maybe it was the wind and heat that made Peach feel buzzed. She and Annalie laughed and told jokes. She realized that she liked this woman, as different as they were. She felt comfortable around her, enough to start thinking about her as a friend. She didn’t feel that way about many people. Hardly anyone, in fact.

Not knowing why she said it, she asked: ‘Do you think I’m weird?’

Annalie scrunched her forehead, but nothing she did made her less pretty. ‘Why would I think that?’

‘I wear disguises. I’m a voyeur. I’m always listening to other people’s business.’

‘It’s your job.’

‘Well, yeah, but I’d probably do it anyway,’ Peach admitted.

‘Still not really weird,’ Annalie said.

‘I have mannequins at home. I collect them.’

‘Male or female?’

‘Uh, female. I name them, too.’

‘Do you talk to them?’ Annalie asked, grinning.

‘No. Well, not in a long time.’

‘That’s a little weird, but still pretty low on the scale. Do they talk to you?’

‘No.’

‘Then you’re good.’

‘There’s more. I’m weird about sex, too.’

Annalie smirked. ‘Do tell.’

‘I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be celibate.’