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‘‘Yeah, but this is so cool.’’

We lugged the paper through the reception area and sat down in the investigator’s office.

‘‘Now,’’ she said, dusting off her hands, ‘‘tell me.’’

She got it right away. The datum bit, the whole thing.

‘‘You mean, they were trying to get to our guys before our guys got to the patch?’’

‘‘Right!’’

‘‘So what about Turd?’’

‘‘What about him?’’

‘‘Well, where does he fit in?’’

‘‘He doesn’t! That’s just it. They didn’t have any idea Turd was anywhere around. They couldn’t have, because they’d left the perch and come down to go after our people before Turd even got there.’’

‘‘You mean, to protect the patch?’’

‘‘Right.’’

‘‘From our guys?’’

‘‘Right!’’

She thought for a second. ‘‘Well, I think you’ve got the movements right. But we’ve got a little problem with the motives.’’

‘‘How so?’’

‘‘Well,’’ she said, her brow furrowed, ‘‘if they’re protecting the patch, they’d have to have ownership, right?’’

‘‘Probably.’’ I was hesitating, because I was afraid I knew where she was going.

‘‘So, if they own the patch, or at least guard it, they’ve gotta know about Turd, because he’s the gardener.’’ She looked up. ‘‘Right?’’

Uh-oh. ‘‘Right,’’ I said.

‘‘So why did they kill Turd? Why not just grab him or something, to keep him quiet? Hell, why not just tell him to stay home?’’

Well, I sure as hell didn’t have an answer. ‘‘But you agree with the movements?’’

‘‘Oh, yeah. No doubt you’re right about that.’’

‘‘Well, then,’’ I said, ‘‘maybe they just . . .’’ I hung on that one.

‘‘Just what?’’

‘‘Oh, hell, Hester, I don’t know . . . maybe they just fucked up?’’

She grinned, and so did I.

‘‘I don’t think so,’’ she said. ‘‘But we’re on the track now. We are. I can feel it.’’

I leaned back in my chair, clasping my hands behind my head. ‘‘Know what I’m afraid of?’’

‘‘Probably, but tell me . . .’’

‘‘The narc folks have our answer.’’

‘‘Yeah.’’ She took off her sports jacket, revealing a white sleeveless blouse and a reddish-brown holster for her 9 mm.

‘‘New holster?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ she said, turning to the side to give a better view. ‘‘Not every man would have noticed . . .’’ She gave me a stern look. ‘‘Would you have noticed on a guy?’’

‘‘Sure would,’’ I said, honestly.

She grinned as she sat back down. ‘‘You’re right, you would.’’

‘‘Hand-tooled?’’ I asked.

Her eyebrows flickered up, then down. ‘‘You’ll never know, Houseman. You’ll just never know.’’

We called Johnny Marks’s probation officer. He said he’d get back to us as soon as he talked with him.

Before we got into the reports, we tried DEA and DNE, to let them know what we’d deduced, and see if they could unravel the snarl for us. Nobody with any information on the case was ‘‘available.’’ Probably wouldn’t be for three or four days. Might be able to give us a call later, but not to meet.

Hester, who was speaking to the agent on the phone, said something about vacations, and shook her head.

‘‘No luck?’’

‘‘No, and now I’m wondering what the hell’s up with them.’’

‘‘Hey,’’ I said, ‘‘when you were undercover for the narcs, did you fuck with the locals like this?’’

‘‘Oh, sure,’’ she said, almost absently. ‘‘All the time.’’ She looked up. ‘‘It’s an arrogance thing, I guess. But it’s catching. Sometimes you didn’t return a call for a couple of days, just to let them know how little they counted.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘It’s just a thing.’’

‘‘Maybe,’’ I said, ‘‘they should recruit from the ranks of the experienced investigators instead of the new folks. Maybe then they wouldn’t tend to do that.’’

‘‘You’re probably right,’’ she said.

We went back to reading interviews.

Two hours later, Marks’s PO called back. He wasn’t able to locate Marks anywhere. Did we have any ideas where he was? Well, I mean, he was obviously ducking everybody because he was scared. I told him that. Exactly who it was that was scaring him was sort of up for grabs.

‘‘It ain’t us,’’ I said. ‘‘It’s somebody he thinks is gonna do him harm.’’

He wanted to know if we had any suggestions. I told him where to find Howler.