Chapters (65)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty–one
- Twenty–two
- Twenty–three
- Twenty–four
- Twenty–five
- Twenty–six
- Twenty–seven
- Twenty–eight
- Twenty–nine
- Thirty
- Thirty–one
- Thirty–two
- Thirty–three
- Thirty–four
- Thirty–five
- Thirty–six
- Thirty–seven
- Thirty–eight
- Thirty–nine
- Forty
- Forty–one
- Forty–two
- Forty–three
- Forty–four
- Forty–five
- Forty–six
- Forty–seven
- Forty–eight
- Forty–nine
- Fifty
- Fifty–one
- Fifty–two
- Fifty–three
- Fifty–four
- Fifty–five
- Fifty–six
- Fifty–seven
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Becky Masterman
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
I ignored the condescension. “I don’t know. I don’t know that yet.” The topopo salad arrived and I forked some out of the fried tortilla shell that served as a bowl. “So you won’t help me?”
Max looked mildly disgusted by my question, treating me like an ignorant civilian, an old woman with possibly some paranoia. He said, “Help how? I get involved when a crime is committed. So far what I’m hearing is suspicion—“
“Instinct—”
“—without any substantiation, simply based on the single fact, no, two provable facts, that the guy didn’t tell you he was in prison, and that he gave you a different name. Brigid, we got bigger problems than that. And here’s another thing. You said you were going to keep a low profile. The only one I can see breaking the law here is you. Prowling around some man’s property is not a low-profile thing to do. Stop it.”
“We used to get along so well, didn’t we? Playing poker. Talking philosophy.”
“That was Carlo.”
Having lost any appetite I might have had at three in the afternoon, I took out a twenty and laid it on the table. “I’ll tell you something, Max, this is what happened the last time. You didn’t trust me before, and it nearly got us all killed. You’re a bullheaded bastard, you know that?”
“Anybody ever tell you you’re a loose cannon? I worry more about what you’ll do than what anyone else will do.”
I got up and grabbed my tote bag from the corner of the chair. “Okay, have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll take care of this on my own.”
Max rose, too, like he totally got the threat. “Don’t you do anything, Brigid. I’d just as soon arrest you for trespassing as try to pin something on that poor old man.”
“Poor old man. Bite me, Coyote. Times like this I wish I had a dick for the sole purpose of telling you to suck it,” I said. “Plus, you really going to arrest me, and where might that go? You want to be held accountable for a cover-up?”
Max knew what I meant, the case that broke our friendship and caused this animosity. The waitress ran up when she saw that I had stood, and it wasn’t to make sure I wasn’t stiffing her. They knew me better than that. She tried to hand me a takeout container. “You want to take that with you?” she asked, pointing to my hardly touched salad. I summoned a smile and said no thanks.
Well, that didn’t go very well. I had an alternative that I didn’t want to use, going around Max, I mean. But it looked like I had no choice. Well, sure I did, I always have a choice, but what the hell.