“Possible,” he said. He squinted at me in delayed disbelief. “You did a job for a hundred bucks?”

“Oh, sorry. She offered five, but that was too much, given what I’d been asked to do. I suggested two, and that’s what she ended up paying me.”

“Still sounds like a bargain.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” I hesitated and then said, “Crap. I guess you might as well have the other hundred. You’ll ask for it anyway.”

I reached into my shoulder bag and removed the envelope from the outer pocket, holding it by one corner. “My prints are on this, but so are hers. Run ’em and you might get a hit in case she turns out to be a criminal mastermind.”

He smiled. “I’ll mention that to the techs. Chances are she came by the cash the same way you did, but maybe we can track it back to the source.”

“Meanwhile, what? I’m out the money?”

“I’m afraid so. The supermarket lost out, too, if you want to get right down to it. The bill you passed, they turned over to us without recompense. At least you got groceries out of the deal.”

“I hope they don’t take it out of Suzanne’s pay,” I said.

“Depends on store policy. I’m guessing not.”

I thought about his story. “You said this was two years ago. I wonder why the money’s showing up now?”

“No idea.”

“But clearly someone’s been sitting on it, right?”

“Theoretically, yes. Some of it could have been circulated in other parts of the country. We have no way of knowing that.”

“Bad paper’s a bitch,” I said. “You need anything else?”

“Nope. What about you? Any questions?”

“I’d like a receipt for that bill, which I’m assuming will be booked in as evidence.”

“Oh, right.”

I watched while he fashioned a receipt, writing down the date and serial number before he passed it across the desk to me. “I hope your client makes good on the loss,” he said.

“Hey, me too, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Probably smart. In the meantime, this is a sensitive operation, so steer clear if you would.” He stirred and stood up.

I stood at the same time.

He said, “We appreciate your cooperation. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Not your fault. If I hear from her again, I’ll be happy to let you know.”

He pointed to the phone number on his business card. “That’s my private line. You need me, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. I’m currently on loan to an FBI/ATF task force. Technically, the PD’s not involved, and they want to keep it that way. You call the department looking for me, they’re going to play dumb.”

“Got it,” I said. We shook hands again, as though closing a deal. “Thanks for the backstory. You didn’t have to put me in the loop on this.”

“We’d be grateful for any help.”

The minute I heard the door close behind him, I opened Hallie’s file again and tried her home phone in Malibu.