"How'd you find out about that?"

"We gimmicked up another applicant, a writer looking for an office away from his home. The cash is the explanation Richard gave when he turned him down. At any rate, the friction between the brothers could really work for us. I'm always hoping one will break down and rat the other one out. We've been after them for three years and this is as close as we've come."

"What's this got to do with me?"

"We'd like to hire you to do some work for us."

"Such as?"

"We want you to pass along the name of a fence in Los Angeles. He's a jeweler by trade. The business looks legitimate on the surface, but he's actually a fence. He deals in stolen property when the quality or quantity is sufficient to make it worth the risk. With money getting scarce, the boys might be tempted to dip into the stash, which we don't think they've touched."

"But they can't get anywhere close to true value through a fence."

"What choice do they have?"

"Wouldn't they be better off trying to auction some of the pieces through Christie's or Sotheby's?"

"Christie's or Sotheby's would insist on a provenance… proof the jewelry was theirs… which they can't provide. They may try selling to a private party, which is yet another reason we're stepping up the pace."

"So I pass along the information about the jeweler and then what?"

"We wait to see if they take the bait and then we nail them. The Houston D.A.'s already talked to the D.A.'s office here and they're ready to roll. Once we know the jewelry's in the house, we'll ask for a warrant and go in."

"Based on what?"

"We'll have the fence and the fence will have at least a portion of the jewelry. The boys are going to have a hell of a time explaining that."

"What if they don't make contact with him?"

"We have another scheme in mind that I'd rather not go into. In the meantime, you might want to see the jewelry." Again, she reached into her briefcase, this time removing a manila folder with what looked like appraisals and a series of Polaroids. She sorted through the stack, laying picture after picture on the rim of my desk, rattling off the contents. "Diamond riviere necklace valued at $120,000. An art deco diamond-and-sapphire bracelet-that one's $24,000. Diamond ring with a stone weighing in at 7.63 carats, worth $64,000. And check this one: a necklace with 86 graduated diamonds. That's somewhere between $43- and $51,000. Sorry about the pics. These are preliminary Polaroids. All the good appraisal photos are being circulated through Southern California." She finished dealing out the pictures, reciting prices like a pitchman for a company selling door to door. "What makes you so sure they still have them?"

"An educated guess," she said. "We know they bought a safe from a local locksmith. We figure they installed it at the house so each of them could keep an eye on the other. The problem is, we have no legitimate means of getting in."

"Funny you should say that. I was there last night."

"How'd you manage that?"

"Richard was gone. Tommy took me over and showed me around."

"I don't suppose you spotted the safe."

"I'm afraid not. There's barely any furniture and no wall art. I can tell you this-the entire alarm system's down. Tommy told me Richard set it off so many times they finally discontinued service. Now it's strictly window dressing."

"Interesting. I'll have to think about that. When will you see him again?"

"I'm not going to see him again! After what you've told me?"

"Too bad. We could really use your help. He's taken an interest in a woman more than once and Richard always puts a stop to it. He doesn't trust his little brother's tendency to blab. I don't think Richard realizes what a threat you are."

"I'm a threat?"

"Of course. Tommy's hustling you and that gives you power-not a lot, but enough. You have access, for one thing."

"I'm not going to go sneaking around in there. I'd have no reason whatever to tour the house again. Besides, even if I found the safe, I wouldn't have the faintest idea how to open it."

"We wouldn't want you to do that. All we need is the location, which couldn't be that hard. Once we have the warrant, we don't want the boys disposing of the evidence."

I thought about it briefly. "I won't do anything illegal."

Mariah smiled. "Oh, come now. From what we've heard, you're willing to cut corners when it suits you."

I stared at her. "You ran a background on me?"

"We had to know who we were dealing with. All we're asking you to do is pass along the information about the fence."

"I don't like it. It's too risky."

"Without risk, where's the fun? Isn't that the point?"

"Maybe for you."

"I told you, we intend to pay you for your time."

"It's not about money. I don't want to be pimped."

"Meaning what?"

"I won't peddle my ass so you can nail these guys. I'm a big fan of justice, but I'm not going to offer up my body to get the goods on them."

"We're not asking you to go to bed with him. What you do in private is strictly your concern." She closed her mouth, a move I've often employed myself, giving the other person the opportunity to work it out.

I picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desk, letting my fingers slide the length as I flipped it end over end. "I'll think about it some and let you know."

"Don't take too long." She placed a slip of paper on the desk with a name and address written across the face of it. "This is the name of the jeweler. I'll leave it up to you how you play out the information. You can bill us for your time and gas mileage. If you decide you can't help, then so be it. Either way, we'll trust you to keep your mouth shut."

I took the paper and looked at the name. "You have a number where I can reach you?"

"I've been moving around. In an emergency, you can use the number on my card, but I think it'd be better if I called you. I'll touch base in a day or so and see how things stand. Meanwhile, I don't want the boys to know I'm here. I've been dogging them for years and with this gray hair, I'm not exactly inconspicuous. If they find out we've spoken, you're in the soup, so take care."

Chapter 13

By 1:45, having confirmed my appointment with Fiona, I found myself driving once more along Old Reservoir Road. The sky was a steel gray, the earlier patches of blue covered over with thick clouds again. I flicked a look to my right, taking in the sight of Brunswick Lake. Gusts of wind skipped like stones along the surface of the water, and trees at the shoreline tossed their shaggy heads. I parked, as I had before, on the side of the two-lane road. I reached for my shoulder bag and the brown manila envelope containing my report. I looked up at the house, which was dug into the hillside as though meant to withstand attack. Four days had passed, but with the surfeit of rain, fresh weeds were sprouting across the property.

I wasn't looking forward to the meeting, but it was better than having to think about Richard and Tommy Hevener. That problem was stuck in my throat like a bone. My first impulse was to bail on the new office space, thus severing all ties, but (cheap as I am) I hated to say bye-bye to more than sixteen hundred dollars. The conflict was thorny. Morality aside, it can't be socially correct to consort with a couple of stone-cold killers. But how could I get out of my deal with them? Even in California, the etiquette was baffling. Was one polite? Did one confess the reasons for refusing to do business? I thought about the soft light in Tommy's eyes, then pictured him patiently tying up his mother's hands before the house was set on fire. If he called me again, should I mention his parents' murders or simply make some excuse? I wanted to act swiftly. Then again, by breaking off all contact, I was, in effect, refusing to help Mariah Talbot. I seldom shy away from risk and-as she had so rudely observed-I was willing to cut corners when it suited me.