Duran shook his head. “We looked at him hard. I would’ve loved to put him away for that. But there was no evidence. No motive. And she alibied him.”

“She knows he did it,” Ted said.

“She was very convincing.”

“Well, that’s genetic. I don’t think she can help herself. All she ever cared about was the money. If Richie could get it, she was going to go with him. When he turned up dead, she hired me. But when I pointed out to her that the money was tied to the LBC project, she freaked. Anybody pulling on that loose thread was soon going to come up with Reisner, Pak, cash bribes, and her. The tower was coming down on all their heads.”

“She had to know that Stavros did Richie,” Duran said. He was leaning in, arms on the table and thoroughly engaged. Ted had him.

“Not at first,” Ted said. “It was only afterwards that she started thinking it through. Once she had that connection, she must have realized that very few people could have put all the pieces together. One of them was dead, and one of them was Nicky. Lover boy. Then she got really scared.”

“When was this?”

“By the next time I saw her on Sunday, she knew. That’s when she fired me.”

“That’s when she told us Nicky was with her the night Richie got whacked.”

“And you believed her,” Ted said.

“Nicky had no motive. He had the girl. Why knock off her ex-husband? He’d won already.” Duran was arguing but Ted could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He was coming around.

“Because he was scared.”

“Nicky Greco?” Duran said. “I don’t think so.”

“No, listen to him,” Kasabian said.

“Scared of losing her to an ex-husband who showed up with a story about making scads of money,” Ted said. “He wasn’t worried about being in competition with Richie. But he was worried about Cheryl seeing dollar signs.”

Duran was nodding. “It’s a good story; too bad no jury will ever hear it.”

“There must be evidence. DNA? Can’t you match the gun or something?”

Duran smiled grimly. “Nicky uses a revolver, so he leaves no brass at the scene. And he fires soft-nose .22 shorts. They mangle on contact, so there’s no markings. You can’t trace the bullet to a gun. They don’t have the stopping power of a bigger bullet, but they can be just as deadly. And they’re quiet. Outside of war zones, .22s are the bestselling bullets in the world.”

“Would you mind if I ask a question?” Lester said. He took one of the last two dumplings and dipped it in the soy sauce. “Are we all sitting here waiting for me to volunteer?” He popped it in his mouth and spoke around it. “Time’s wasting.”

“I’m with you,” Kasabian said.

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