The day was hot enough to burn away the smog, leaving behind a languid blue sky shimmering in the heavens. The ground was smoking, waves undulating off the black asphalt. Dark funnels of gnats swirled around a vortex in hurricane fashion. Flies dive-bombed his face. Sweat had darkened circles under Decker’s armpits and had drenched his back. He had the complexion of a typical redhead and couldn’t walk for more than a hundred feet in full sunlight without his skin beginning to burn. The whine of a mosquito pierced his ear and he slapped at his cheek.

Torpor began to set in, a sodden blanket draping over his shoulders. His head began to pound and his eyes felt itchy.

He checked his watch: 2:10.

The appointment had been set for two. He longed to slide back into his Porsche, crank up the AC, and drive away. He was hot and grumpy, but maybe it was because of his reticence to stumble upon another body. He swore to himself, glanced longingly at his car, but pressed on.

The garage had sealed off the backyard from the front yard on the left side, but there was a gate adjacent to the right of the house. It was six feet high and secured with a padlock. Since he cleared the height by four inches, he peered over and looked around. The backyard was just as brown and vegetation free as the front, but there was no sign of Arnie anywhere.

“Lamar?” He jumped up to get a better view. “Arnie, are you there? It’s Pete Decker.”

Nothing.

A distant dog was barking so hard, it wheezed. Birds chattered from a neighboring fifty-foot magnolia studded with white flowers as big as dinner plates. He went back to the front and knocked his knuckles sore. He mashed his nose to the screen and yelled out, “Yo, Arnie, it’s Pete Decker.” He checked his watch. “It’s a quarter after two…” A hard knock. “Lamar, are you there?”

He exhaled forcibly and yelled out, “I don’t like the looks of this, Lamar, especially after Cal. I’m coming in.”

It didn’t take more than a single pop with a credit card to open the screen. The living room validated his first impression; it seemed unbothered by its lack of occupants and there was nothing to suggest nefarious activities. An industrial-sized fan blasted g-force wind onto his face, a bit annoying with his hair blowing around, but it felt good.