“His sheet is a bunch of low-level bullshit. Some assaults, some larceny, and a couple of drug busts. Did eighteen months at Graham Correctional Center for one of those busts. Model prisoner, completed drug treatment, early release.”

I reached over and moved his left arm. There were needle tracks up and down its length. “I think he might have relapsed.”

“So this one overdoses, gets found, a dispatcher is called to the scene, the dispatch fails, they bundle him up and toss him in the lake. Make it look like he shot himself out on a jetty.”

“Might be. Do we know he’s tied to the Tunneys?”

“He’s been working for a year as a dispatcher—the other kind—at their truck depot. It’s a joe job. He’d be available for muscle work.”

“How do you want to work this?”

“For this part, I go back through his records and do a lot of piecing together of his movements. Then I go through your friend Jimmy’s records and see if there’s any point of contact.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“The good news is that people leave their cell phones on pretty much all the time. A couple of warrants for cell phone data and tower access and I can tell you where both of them ate, slept and took a dump for the last six months. If they connected at any point, I’ll find it.”

“You don’t need me for this, then.”

“No. You’re on your own for the evening. Go…do whatever dispatchers do when you’re not doing this.”

“I think I’ll go home and sleep.”

“Bold choice. Tell me how it works for you. See you tomorrow.” Langdon waved me off and then started to shove Calhoun back into his drawer.

Out on the street I started walking and looking for a cab. A black Mercedes rolled up next to me and a window rolled down.

“I’m not looking for a limo,” I said. I preferred real taxis over the less legal kind. Always seemed like a good way not to get robbed.

The man on the other side of the window smiled at me. He had nice teeth and a good suit and a handgun small enough to be unobtrusive but more than large enough to do me a lot of damage. “I think you’re going to want to take this ride, Mr. Valdez,” the man said.

I stopped walking. “Who are you?”

“I’m an associate of someone whose interests you and Detective Langdon have been asking about today. That someone would like to speak to you, if you don’t mind.”

“And if I do mind?”

“He’d like to speak to you anyway.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll persuade you.”

“What does that mean?”