“Not a one, Detective. The two of us hardly ever left the ranch, except to buy provisions, and that was maybe once a month for bulk shopping in Oxnard or Ventura. Once in a while we’d go into Santa Barbara for a movie or to a play at the Ojai Theater, but we never socialized. Tell the truth, we were both darned antisocial. Evenings we’d sit and look up at the sky. That was more than enough for us.”

The three of us walked to the Seville. Marge looked toward the horses, and said, “Hold on, guys, groom time’s coming.”

Milo said, “Thanks for your time, Mrs. Schwinn.”

“Mrs. Schwinn,” said Marge. “Never thought I’d be Mrs. Anybody, but I do like the sound of that. I guess I can be Mrs. Schwinn forever, can’t I?”

When we got in, she leaned into the passenger window. “You would’ve liked the Pierce I knew, Detective. He didn’t judge anyone.”

Touching Milo’s hand briefly, she turned on her heel and hurried toward the corral.

CHAPTER

14

Back on Highway 33, I said, “So now we know where the book came from.”

Milo said, “Guy pierces his ear, turns into Mr. Serene.”

“It’s California.”

“ ‘He didn’t judge.’ You know what she meant by that, don’t you? Schwinn decided my being gay was acceptable. Gee, I feel so validated.”

“When you rode together, was he homophobic?”

“Nothing overt, just general nastiness. But what man of that generation likes queers? I was always on edge with him. With everyone.”

“Fun times,” I said.

“Oh yeah, whoopsie-doo. I always felt he didn’t trust me. Finally, he came out and said so but wouldn’t explain why. Knowing what we know now, maybe it was speed-paranoia, but I don’t think so.”

“Think the department knew about his addiction?”

“They didn’t bring it up when they interrogated me, just concentrated on his whoring.”

“What I find interesting is that they eased him out with full pension rather than bring him up on charges,” I said. “Maybe because going public about a doping, whoring cop might have brought other doping, whoring cops to light. Or, it had something to do with handling the Ingalls case.”

Several miles passed before he spoke again. “A speed freak. Asshole was a jumpy insomniac, skinny as a razor, gulped coffee and cough syrup like a vampire chugs blood. Add paranoia and the sudden mood swings, and it’s Narco 101, I shoulda seen it.”

“You were concentrating on the job, not his bad habits. Anyway, turns out whatever personal feelings he had toward you, he respected your skills. That’s why he had someone send you the book.”

“Someone,” he snarled. “He dies seven months ago, and the book arrives now. Think that someone could be good old Marge?”