“He has enough money and enough status that he throws things away. He drives cars until he’s tired of them, literally leaves them by the side of the road. He furnishes houses and condos and never lives in them. He lives in a disposable world, casting off things when he doesn’t want them anymore.

“Then he meets Reggie.”

“Reggie?” Frames asked.

“Reggie Semple. She was famous for a while.” Russell adjusted himself on the sofa, trying to get comfortable with his hands cuffed behind his back. “Youngest daughter of Gregory Semple. Old San Francisco family. Reggie grew up in Hillsborough. Had her coming-out at the Cotillion Club in 2008.”

“Are we getting to Elise Durand?”

“Be patient. Reggie’s at loose ends. Spends a year at USF, drops out. Tries modeling but finds she can’t keep appointments. What she likes are parties. That’s where she meets Ben—private party in Pacific Heights. The girl’s flat-out gorgeous. She and Ben are attracted to each other. But she’s a loose cannon. Big fan of Hangar 1 on the rocks and never says no to coke or weed. And she’s got other boyfriends besides Ben. Guy named Tyler Morris, son of another old-money family and full-time heroin addict, and P. J. Weston, a new forward for the Golden State Warriors.”

“I love the Warriors,” Holland shouted.

Jesse held the cold pack against Holland’s head. “Take it easy, Ken.”

“For a while Reggie and Ben are a couple,” Russell said. “She moves into his place in Los Altos. But she’s gone a lot. Ben figures she’s doing other guys, and she is. Photos show up on Instagram of Reggie partying with Morris or Weston or a dozen other guys. A story goes around about an abortion. When Ben and Reggie are together, they go at it pretty hard, the full ten rounds. He hits her, she hits him back. They come to our place, and Reggie has a bruise on her cheek or a split lip. They break up, get back together, break up, get back together. Then she’s gone for good.”

“Where’d she go?” Frames asked.

“You never heard this? She’s gone-gone. Like, disappeared. Morris watches her get into a cab outside his place in Pacific Heights, and she’s never seen again. San Francisco cops can’t find a record from a cab or an Uber of a pickup at that location. Her father offers half a million for leads. The cops question her boyfriends—Morris, Weston, even Ben. Morris is too strung out to know anything, and his family hires the best lawyer in the city. Ben has an alibi—he was seen at a party that night seventy miles away in Healdsburg. The cops figure the whole thing has something to do with Reggie’s heroin habit. In the end, Reggie Semple just falls off the face of the earth.”

Frames leaned forward. “So why’s this a story?”