“And then we trade, right? You answer my question.”

“Let’s see how things go.”

Ted described the surplus-money model, making it clear that Richie’s part in it had been purely as a researcher in county records. “I paid him twenty-five dollars for every decent lead he brought me. You want that burger now?” He signaled to Lili.

Duran took a menu from behind the salt and pepper. “What’s good here?”

“I usually get the pad thai.”

Duran gave him a skeptical look.

“Or the burger,” Ted said.

“Make mine cheese. Cheddar, if they’ve got it.”

“Two heart-stoppers, Lili,” Ted called out. “Medium rare.”

Duran pulled the conversation back on track. “Sounds like a sweet deal for you. He does the legwork, and you make a few phone calls. He makes maybe a grand a week, and you get the big payoffs.”

“Yes and no. Richie never had the work ethic to bring me forty cases a week—if there were that many to be found, which I very much doubt. And out of those forty good possibilities he found, I’d guess that at best one would lead to any kind of payoff. Most weeks they all turn out to have problems. I’m not the only guy chasing these deals.”

“But you make a nice living.”

“I’d have trouble getting a new car loan. But it’s legal.”

“Maybe a bit shady, though.”

Ted could tell Duran was pushing buttons, hoping for an unguarded response, but he didn’t like it. “I provide a service. I find people who have been through tough times, and I put some money in their pockets. I can’t force people to work with me, but when they do, they walk away happy. It’s not altruism on my part, but it’s not stealing.”

“Suppose Rubiano cut you out of a deal? Maybe he found something juicy and kept it for himself.”

This was uncomfortably close to Cheryl’s version of reality, but Ted could see no way this might be related to Richie’s death. He shrugged. “He was always free to go his own way.” Finding possible deals was a boring, repetitive, by-the-book operation. Closing deals was an art.

“But that would have pissed you off.”

“No. Richie was a crook. I knew that when he came to work with me.”

“But . . .”

“My turn. How did he die?”

Duran paused, feigning to consider whether to answer or not. Ted wasn’t impressed with the act. The detective must have been prepared to answer some questions.

“He was shot,” Duran said.

The news should have been chilling, but Ted realized that he had expected it. Murder in America. Four out of five assaults involved a gun.

“Do you know the widow?” Duran hunched forward, forcing himself into Ted’s space. It was the kind of move the hothead detective on SVU always tried when the pace of the interview was getting him frustrated.