“That’s right,” said Marge. “But not for his sinuses, for the high. The decongestants were what he did openly. On the sly, he was fooling around with amphetamines—speed. He started doing it to stay awake on the job, to be able to get back home to Simi Valley without falling asleep at the wheel. That’s where he lived with his first wife. He got hooked bad. Did you know Dorothy?”

Milo shook his head.

“Nice woman, according to Pierce. She’s dead, too. Heart attack soon after Pierce retired. She was a chain smoker and very overweight. That’s how Pierce first got his hands on speed—Dorothy had lots of prescriptions for diet pills, and he started borrowing. It got the better of him, the way it always does. He told me he’d turned really nasty, suspicious, had mood swings, couldn’t sleep. Said he took it out on his partners, especially you. He felt bad about that, said you were a smart kid. He figured you’d go far . . .”

She trailed off.

Milo tugged at the zipper of his windbreaker. “Did Pierce talk much about his work, ma’am?”

“He didn’t talk about specific cases, if that’s what you mean. Just how rotten the department was. I think his work poisoned him as much as the speed. When I met him, he’d touched bottom. It was right after Dorothy’s death, and Pierce had stopped paying rent on the Simi house—they never bought, just rented. He was living in a filthy motel in Oxnard and earning minimum wage sweeping the floors at Randall’s Western Wear. That’s where I first saw him. I was doing a show in Ventura, came in to Randall’s to look at boots, collided with Pierce when he took out the trash. He knocked me on my rear, we both ended up laughing about it. I liked his laugh. And he made me curious. Someone that age, doing that job. Usually it’s young Mexicans. Next time I came in, we talked some more. There was something about him—strong, no wasted words. I’m a gabby type, as you can see. Comes from living alone most of my life, talking to the horses. Talking to myself so as not to go nuts. This land was my grandfather’s. I inherited it from my parents. I was the youngest, stayed home to take care of Mom and Dad, never strayed very far. The horses pretend they’re listening to me. That’s what I liked about Pierce, he was a good listener. Soon, I was making up reasons to drive down to Oxnard.” She smiled. “Bought a lot of boots and jeans. And he never knocked me down again.”