“Understand. But I’m not getting the feeling that I can count on what little they’re telling me. We’re really counting on you to keep your ear to the ground. Because so far…we’re clueless.”

“I’m keeping my eyes and ears open, Detective,” I promise.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again,” he says, on the way out.

Can’t wait.

Chapter 17

“Okay, now what?” It’s Bonnie Jo, back at my door as soon as Quinn’s gone.

“Oh, man,” I say. “I’m seriously convinced they suspect somebody here at the agency. And I’ve got to tell ya, he’s asking me all about you creatives.”

“What! Why us?”

My iPhone vibrates with a text. Jesus, it’s Tiffany again.…

I must see you! Please respond!

“Jesus, BJ, take a look at this.” I show her the text and am instantly sorry I did.

“Tiffany? Tiffany Stone? From our CrawDaddy spot all those years ago? Why the hell is she texting you?”

“She’s looking for work. Thinks I can help her. Why the hell isn’t she after you about work, Bonnie, instead of me?”

“Good question.” There’s a look on BJ’s face I haven’t seen before.

“I mean, first of all, it’s you guys who cast the talent, not me,” I say. “I’d love to help, but I’m not a creative. Has she ever been after you?”

The emerging look of suspicion on Bonnie Jo’s face is unmistakable. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“What? You think I’m hiding something? C’mon, you know me better than that.”

“Well, I thought I did. Just let me know if you hear anything else, okay?”

“Definitely. You going to the wake?”

“Of course,” she says, and, as always, I watch her turn around and walk away.

In no time Lenny’s back at my door, looking only slightly better than he did when I sent him home yesterday.

“Hey bro, everything good?” he asks. Instead of the glassy-eyed smile, I get one that’s decidedly twitchy.

“Far as I know, Len. Have the cops talked to you yet?”

“No, man, why?” For him it’s rapid-speak. “Feels like they’re leaving me out for some reason.”

No wonder, I’m thinking. You’re half stoned all the time.

“Just curious. I know they’re talking to all the creatives. Which shouldn’t be a surprise based on what you told me yesterday, should it?”

He’s clearly nervous, shifting from one foot to the other. He could sure use a couple of hits to mellow out.

“Guess not,” he admits, rubbing his ass, which is no doubt getting tighter by the minute.

“Take it easy, Lenny. Be cool.”

He starts to leave, but stops at the door and looks back at me. And what do I get from this drug user and now murder suspect?

A thumbs-up. Seriously?

My cell rings. It’s Bob Nardone, my tax accountant for the past ten years. A guy who has helped Jean and me through more financial shit than you can imagine.

“Hey, Bob, what’s up?”

“Well, I’m looking at the paperwork you sent over the other day, and it’s not looking so good. There’s no way I can get you guys into a tax return scenario. You’ve got more coming in than you can apply expenses to.…”