“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he said. “You’ve certainly made things difficult for me-and for him, too, from what I’ve heard.”

“Won’t you get in trouble for trying to ruin his show?” Emma asked.

“Not if no one but us knows,” he said.

“Not to burst your bubble-slash-ego the size of Minnesota,” I said, “but I won’t do anything differently. And I’d certainly never take a penny of your money.”

A tense silence followed; then Emma said, “Could we please have visitor badges?”

Mayo smiled then, tenting his hands. “It was worth a try.” He called for his gofer, Chelsea, and soon Emma and I were walking down her street wearing Reality Check hard hats and paste-on paper badges.

At first the house couldn’t be seen, because trucks were parked everywhere, but when we got closer Emma sucked in her breath and stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh, my gosh. It’s bigger than I thought.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me along to where the driveway used to be. The newly turned earth and discarded two-by-fours made me wish I’d worn work boots.

The framing was complete, and the insulated walls were up. Before we could go inside, Stu Crowell met us coming out, his ever-present camera with him.

“Hi, there,” he said. “Did the big man leave town and you two snuck down here somehow?”

“Mayo gave us the hard hats himself,” I said.

“He must want something,” Stu said. “How about a tour?”

“No taping, right?” Emma said.

“Nope. I’m keeping track of the work for budget purposes.”

Stu led us through framed-in rooms on the new cement, and Emma seemed able to visualize what everything would look like. She guessed the square footage at around twenty-four hundred. I supposed Realtors could do that. As for me, it was all beams and pipes and wires. Emma wanted to walk through again on her own, so Stu and I waited in what would be the foyer-at least I could figure that much out.

“I was hoping to see you while we were here, Stu,” I said. “Have you had more than one interview with the police about what happened Monday?”

“Nope. I talked to a Sergeant Benson that day, but he only wanted to make sure he had my name and phone number in case he had more questions later. They did that with the whole crew.”

“Did everyone know why I was with Emma that day?”

“Not everyone, but a few people asked after they made the find. Why? What’s this about?”

I debated whether to tell him. Stu had impressed me as an honest, genuine man since day one. “Someone has been following me while I’ve been investigating the death of Emma’s mother.”

He looked at me, surprised. “Her mother’s death? I thought this was about-”

“It’s a long story. Can you recall specifically who asked you questions, aside from the police? Strangers in the crowd? Crew members? City employees?” Saying this made me realize how vast the suspect list might be.

“I don’t remember. Sorry.”

Damn. “Maybe there was someone who stood out to other production people, someone who seemed overly curious?”

“No one said anything to me,” he answered.

I sighed. “If you get a chance, could you ask around and see if anyone else noticed or talked to someone like that?”

Stu nodded. “I can do that. There was a lot of mumbling in that crowd behind the fence. But we’re used to people watching us, wanting to get on camera.”

I smiled. “Emma and I would be grateful for anything anyone remembers.”

“Sure. She’s special, that one. I’ve done plenty of these shows and helped a lot of nice people. People like Emma are why I keep coming back when Mayo calls. He may be there to take the credit when the e-mails roll and the ratings are out, but it’s the researchers, the directors, the film editors, the builders, the craftsmen, the decorators, the shoppers, the banks that give scholarships, the companies that-Hell, I could go on and on. Those are the real heroes.”

“Them and you,” I said. “Without you catching true emotion on tape, Reality Check wouldn’t be the hit it is.”

“I didn’t finish. Mayo’s an ass, but he’s a true show runner. You gotta have someone like him to put it all together. He does that well.”

I nodded. “You’re probably right. Thanks for reminding me you can’t judge a car by the sound of the horn.”

The call from DeShay came while I was in the grocery store trying my best to balance boxes of Cocoa Puffs with equal parts broccoli. It took everything I had not to blurt out the news that Jeff was back in town. Especially when DeShay’s first words were, “You hear from the man today?”

“Have you?” I was hoping to avoid an outright lie.

“Voice mail. Guess he’s busy.”

“I talked to him last night.” At least that much was true. “He seemed to hint that he’d be home soon.”

“That’s good. Listen, I got a lead on our pro, Diamond. I decided to try a shortcut first and it worked. Remember Christine O’Meara had that one arrest?”

“Yeah.” I realized where he was going with this. “Did she get picked up because she was with her friend Diamond?”

“You got it. Diamond had lots of names, but funny thing-her fingerprints never changed. Her real name was Fiona Mancuso. Had multiple arrests for solicitation.”

My stomach sank. “You’re speaking of her in the past tense. Is she dead?” I’d stopped my cart in front of the Pop-Tarts and realized a woman with a toddler was staring at me, her mouth open. I guess the words Is she dead? don’t go over well in the supermarket.

“She’s dead to HPD,” DeShay went on. “No arrests since 1998. I’m running a print check through DPS to see if she’s still around, and then I’ll check the NCIC database. Maybe she relocated and is still in business.”

“And if she’s not?”

I’d maneuvered my cart over to a less trafficked area and stopped.

“Don’t get discouraged, Abby. Your boy DeShay has been on this all day. Last time she was brought in they also hauled in her pimp on drug charges, a guy named James Caldwell. We know he’s still around because he was recently released from prison. His next scheduled visit to his probation officer is Monday, and White and I plan to be there.”

“Would he know where to find Diamond after all this time?” I asked.

“Maybe not, but he might be able to give us a few names of friends, relatives, you know.”

“By the way, I know why someone tailed me so easily last week. Guess what I found stuck under my bumper?” I told him about the GPS device.

“Could be Kravitz had it put on your car.”

“That’s what I thought,” I said.

“White’s been dealing with the Crime Time jerks. He could ask one of them, but he took off today and tomorrow to spend time at the hospital, I guess I could call him, see if he wants to make a call.”

“Don’t bother him with this yet. The good news is, I found the stupid thing, so-Wait a minute. What about Emma? Could she have one on her rental car?”

He sighed. “She might. I’m on my way out of here. I’ll stop by the hotel and check her car. What’s she driving?”

I gave him the description.

“Are you home?” he asked. “I can pick up the device you found, turn it over to the tech people. We may be able to find out who bought it.”

“Actually, I’m not home. I-I’m shopping for a friend who’s not feeling well.” More skirting the truth. I hated this. “I could meet you in the hotel parking lot and give the thing to you-say, in about thirty minutes?”

“That’ll work.”

“Another question. Did you talk to Billings’s family? Ask if he came into any money around the time he changed his mind about his Crime Stoppers tip?”

“I did, as a matter of fact. If he had any extra cash, the ex didn’t know about it or she would have taken everything she could for back child support.”

“Hmm. Maybe he didn’t blackmail anyone, then. See you soon.” I hung up and hurriedly finished shopping.