“I think so . . . but don’t quote me on that. Just ’cuz I ran into them alone a couple of times don’t mean a whole helluva lot. Coulda been talkin’ business, y’know, as she works for him, but hell . . . well, there’s just something about how a woman looks at a man she’s interested in. It’s different. And she was always around, y’know? Always. Like she really wanted James to notice her.”

“This was recent?”

He nodded. “James didn’t say anything, but it seemed that they were together a lot. But as I said, women, they were always fawnin’ over him. Willow, she works at the hotel, she had her eye on him too, at least I think so.” He scowled. “Not that anything was goin’ on between the two of them, at least not that I know . . . but I caught her lookin’ at him a time or two, and she was watchin’, y’know. Like a cat starin’ at a hole in the ground, waitin’ for a mole to stick out his little head before she pounced. That’s what it was like with her . . .” Then, as if he realized he’d said too much, he added, “Well, what the hell do I know? Look, you’ll have to ask him when he wakes up. I didn’t really keep tabs on his love life.” Running a hand around the back of his neck, he said, “That’s about all I know. Just what I said before. Now I need to see to the stock.” Knowlton scrabbled in his pocket again, retrieved his pack of Marlboros, and this time didn’t bother shoving it back. He pulled out a cigarette and pointed the filter tip at Rivers. “Talk to James.”

“We will,” Mendoza said.

Knowlton jabbed the cigarette into the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go, boy,” he said to the dog. “Guess you may as well come home with me tonight.” To Rivers, he added, “Listen, I’ve got chores to finish, so if you all have any more questions, just follow along. I’ll answer what I can, but I got nothing more to say. It’s all in my statement.”

“Wait,” Mendoza said, but Knowlton was already walking. He led them through the kitchen, which smelled faintly of chili that had hardened in a takeout container left on the table. They followed him out the back door and through a narrow, covered back porch that served as a laundry/mudroom and connected to a dark woodshed filled with dusty chunks of oak, fir, and cedar, the dirt floor packed by a hundred years of footfalls.