We chatted while we ate, skipping from topic to topic, avoiding anything significant. The longer this went on, the more tense I felt. I didn’t know if Dietz was delaying so he could talk to me alone or if he was setting the stage for a showdown. I thought it was better to have Henry on hand while I heard him out. I felt guilty, but I didn’t know what I’d done. Dessert out of the way, Henry inquired whether either of us wanted coffee. I declined and Dietz shook his head in the negative as well.

I looked at Dietz. “So what’s up?”

The smile he turned on me was set and I could see now how angry he was. Not a hot anger, but the cold flat kind that’s all the more dangerous because it’s been driven underground.

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” he said. “You recommended me to a guy who turned out to be a deadbeat. I did the work and submitted a report. That was June 15. No response. I billed again July and he called, which was nice of him. He claimed the client was a slow pay and if he didn’t get the money that week, he’d pay me himself and collect from the client after the fact. Sounded good to me, so I waited. Still nothing. I bill again in August and the mail bounces back. Big block letters: ‘Return to Sender.’ I try calling and the number’s a disconnect. I can’t get through to you, so here I am.”

He stared at me and I stared back.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

“Wolinsky. Pete. The PI.”

“Well, it’s no wonder you never heard from him. He’s dead.”

“Since when?”

“August 25. He was shot during a robbery attempt and died at the scene.”

“Would’ve been nice if you’d let me know.”

I squinted. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you gave him my name and he subbed out a job to me.”

“I didn’t give Pete your name.”

“Yes, you did. That was the first thing he said.”

“He said I sent you? When was this?”

“May. A week before Memorial Day. He said he ran into you downtown and asked if you knew a Nevada PI. You suggested me.”

“I haven’t talked to Pete in years. I’d never give him your name or number for any reason at all. The man’s a scumbag.”

“He said he worked with you at Byrd-Shine.”

“He did not! He never worked at Byrd-Shine. I had nothing to do with giving him your number.”

“Well, if you didn’t send him, who did?”

“How would I know?”

“I only agreed because of you. I wouldn’t have taken the job otherwise.”