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“Far out. Do you think your grandparents would talk to me, too? You know, background stuff.”

“Jesus. How long is this article going to be?”

Before he could answer, I heard Cliff’s insistent cry. We looked up the block to see him signaling madly. Taylor took off, with me not far behind.

Cliff was scratching and pawing at a parked car, wiping at the coat of snow on the windshield.

“Goddamn,” Taylor said. “It’s Dan’s car.”

The driver door wasn’t locked. Some loose coins and an empty cigarette pack were on the floor in front; a few old newspapers, candy wrappers, a tire iron, and a dented thermos on the backseat.

“Try the trunk,” I said.

Taylor worked at the lock with one of my bobby pins, but he couldn’t manage to spring it. We searched for a sharp instrument to try jimmying the lid, but the snow hid all the usual street detritus. Finally Cliff took the tire iron and hacked at the trunk until the lock popped.

Taylor’s voice was agonized: “Jesus! No!” he cried, and let the tire iron fall at his feet.

Rank air shot out at us like a hand from the grave. Jordan tried to step closer, but Cliff prevented him. I saw him scoop the boy up roughly and send him running.

Inside the trunk, Barry was folded into himself like one of those trick collapsible cups. He was blue-gray with death. His lips were horror-show black, and so was the hole under his ear. I fell away from the sight of him, screaming. Cliff held me fast in his arms. The tighter the better, I thought, because otherwise I just might break apart.

Sim was rushing toward us by then.

“Never mind!” I shouted at him. “Get Woody! Just go!”

2

“Nice of you to bring us in on this one,” Detective Norris said. “I hear you think you know more about police work than we do.”

I offered no lip. In fact, I was prepared to be downright contrite, until he snarled at me, “What you ought to be thinking about is getting yourself a lawyer.”

“Why? I didn’t kill Barry. And I’m not the narc who let my snitch get killed, either.”

“Keep it up. Bury yourself some more.”

“Why not just frame Dan Zuni for it? It worked the last time.”

“You meddling little snot. You’ve interfered with this investigation from the word go. I’m coming after you. I don’t care how connected your nigger granddaddy is.”

There. It was said. I grinned at him, picturing him with his eyes gouged out.

Taylor was staring at Norris with loathing. “I heard what you said. I’m a witness, man.”

“You better shut up, sonny, if you don’t want to find yourself in lockup for the night,” Norris answered.

“Intimidation, too. Just you wait,” Taylor said. But Norris never heard him. He had turned and walked back to the Volvo.

Jack Klaus was on the scene as well. He was keeping his distance from me. I saw him exchange a few words with one of the men from the medical examiner’s office as he and another guy lifted Barry’s body into their van.

“I guess we’re the main attraction at the carnival again,” I said to Taylor. “But what do you care? You’re probably thinking about that Pulitzer you’re going to win.”

“Why don’t you cut it out, Sandy? How’d you like me to write about your asshole behavior? And how totally wrong you were about shit.”

“What shit?”

“You keep saying that nobody is out to get the rest of us. Even after you got jacked in the apartment, you refused to believe we’re all at risk. You said the murders were all about Wilt. Everything that’s happened was just about him. Well, what is this? A coincidence? Your little theory is shit, isn’t it? There is some crazy out there who wants to kill everybody who lived in that apartment.”

“No, Taylor, there isn’t.”

Klaus walked up then. No greeting. All business. “They need your statements. They’re going to take everybody in.”

“Fine,” I said. “Who gives a fuck? I’ve got a statement you all can take right here.” My voice was loud and belligerent, like a thousand fed-up women I’d seen drunkenly telling off some man. Norris snapped to attention.

Cliff stepped up close to me, tried to take my hand. “You’d better be cool, Sandy. Don’t make it any worse. Please.