He hung up with nothing more.

What a dick, Stemple thought and wondered if he’d have an excuse to dice the man into little pieces verbally. That’d be a challenge. Foster seemed like a good dicer too. It’d be like a knife fight.

Now that Foster had finished transparenting the Highway Patrol trooper, Allerton took the floor. “The lead didn’t quite pan out, like we hoped. The Serrano Seaside connection.”

Gomez asked, “Who was it?”

“A painter—a contractor, you know, a house painter. Not an artist. Tomas Allende. Serrano used to work with him. Uh-huh, he actually did day labor for a while before he got into turning people into skeletons.”

Foster grumbled, “Whatta you mean didn’t pan out?”

“I said didn’t quite pan out. I’ll tell you what we found.”

We.

Nobody noticed. Probably thinking she meant her and Stemple.

Surprise, surprise, surprise.

The stocky woman rose and walked to the door, looked out, then closed it.

Gomez frowned. The two Steves simply watched her.

“I have to tell you, I didn’t go alone. Kathryn came with me.”

“Kathryn Dance?” Gomez asked.

“How’d she do that?” Foster seemed both perplexed and put out by this information. Not an easy combo, Stemple thought. “She’s civil exclusively. Or did something change that I haven’t heard about?”

“Nothing’s changed,” Allerton said.

“Then what do you mean she was there? I don’t need her to fuck up another operation in this case.”

Stemple stuck his legs out and brought his boot heel down on the linoleum hard. Foster didn’t notice the sound. Or maybe didn’t care if he did.

Gomez said, “Steve, come on. We don’t need that.”

“Need what? I’m saying. It’s because of her we’re in this situation.”

Allerton: “She asked and I said yes. She knows she made a mistake and she wants to make it right. Look, she was good, though, at the house in Seaside, Steve. She was. You should’ve seen her.”

“I did. With Serrano. I wasn’t impressed. Who was?”

Stemple scratched a scar on his thigh, not new, but a .40 round leaves a thick streak and the humidity could really kick off the itch.

“You can’t bat a thousand every time,” Gomez said. Normally soft-​spoken, he sounded brittle.

Thanks, Jimmy, Stemple thought.

Steve Lu, the chief of detectives from Salinas, said, “Okay. She went. I don’t see the harm. I’ve always been impressed with her. What happened?”

Allerton continued, “The subject, our painter, used to work with Serrano? He was cooperating and telling us all kinds of things but swore he hadn’t heard from Serrano for six months. He’d lost all contact. He was going legitimate. I mean, I believed him. Everything he was saying, completely credible. And Kathryn was all, sure, sure, I understand, interesting, thanks for your help. Then, bang, she pulled the rug out from underneath him. Just like that. Caught him in a dozen lies, went to work and in the end he talked.”

“What about the nonpanning lead?” Foster grumbled.