"Is Sandy at home?" I asked.

"I'm afraid not," she said. "He's very busy at this time of year. Sometimes I don't see him for days on end. He owns a toy store, you know. And toy stores are very busy at Christmas."

I knew the toy store. It was a shabby little store in a strip mall in Hamilton Township. "I stopped by the store yesterday," I said. "It was closed."

"Sandy must have been busy running errands. Sometimes he closes down to run errands."

"Elaine, you used this house as collateral to bond out your brother. If Sandy doesn't appear in court, my employer will seize this house."

Elaine continued to smile. "I'm sure your employer wouldn't do a mean thing like that. Sandy and I just moved here, but already we love this house. We wallpapered the bathroom last week. It looks lovely."

Oh boy. This was going to be a disaster. If I don't bring Claws in, I don't get paid and I look like a big failure. If I threaten and intimidate Elaine into ratting on her brother, I feel like a jerk. Better to be after a crazed killer who's hated by everyone, including his mother. Of course, crazed killers tend to shoot at bounty hunters, and getting shot at isn't high on my list of favorite activities.

"I smell gingerbread," Diesel said to Elaine. "I bet you're baking cookies."

"I bake cookies every day," she told him. "Yesterday I made sugar cookies with colored sprinkles and today I'm making gingerbread."

"I love gingerbread," Diesel said. He slid past Elaine and found his way to her kitchen. He selected a cookie from a plate heaped with cookies, took a bite, and smiled. "I bet you add vinegar to your cookie dough."

"It's my secret ingredient," Elaine said.

"So where is the old guy?" Diesel asked. "Where's Sandy?"

"He's probably at his workshop. He makes a lot of his own toys, you know."

Diesel wandered to the back door and looked out. "And where's the workshop?"

"There's a small workshop behind the store. And then there's the main workshop. I don't know exactly where the main workshop is. I've never been there. I'm always too busy with the cookies."

"Is it in Trenton?" Diesel asked.

Elaine looked thoughtful. "Isn't that something?" she said. "I don't know. Sandy talks about the toys and about the labor problem, but I can't remember him ever talking about the workshop."

Diesel took a cookie for the road, thanked Elaine, and we left.

"Want some of my cookie?" Diesel asked, the cookie held between perfect white teeth while he clicked the seat belt into place.

"I do not."