“Obviously I don’t need a vacation rental.”

“True. The vacation is obviously over,” Paul said. “It’s obvious to the D.A. too. What does it mean? About the cute artist’s studio?”

“It means we go back to Alma’s and find out where the artist lives. The one who accused you of being a repo man. Britta told me he was listening that night at Alma’s.”

Paul got it instantly. “Ohh, that cute artist. It wasn’t the studio that was cute, it was the artist.”

“‘Just in case,’ she said, Paul. She must mean that she thought Coyote went to the artist’s place when he ran off from the camp after we rescued Nate.”

“Why would she think that?”

Nina thought back to her conversation with Britta. “He asked the artist for money one time. The cowboy at Alma’s called him Donnellen or something.”

“What I want to know is why you didn’t explain all this about the artist to the D.A.,” Paul said. “The deputies could be over there by now.”

“I needed to think.”

“You needed to think. Okay. That’s a good idea. Let’s all do some thinking.” Paul went over to his fabulous leather office chair and looked out his window, hands behind his head. Nina scratched her arm. Sandy raised her eyebrows and they stuck up there.

The clock ticked over a minute, then two. Finally, Paul broke the silence. “We can’t, honey,” he said. “The man’s too dangerous.”

“I agree that he’s dangerous. But-”

“We should tell the police about the vacation rental. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if he will implicate Wish, Paul. I don’t know what he would say. I don’t know if he did anything, or if Britta’s husband finally lost his patience and attacked her. Maybe he won’t be there at all, and we can talk to the artist. If Jaime gets there first, he’ll arrest Coyote and then we won’t get any information out of him.”

“Whew. Sandy, she’s talking rings around me again.”

“She’s very persuasive,” Sandy said. “You have to watch out for her.”

“Paul, you have a gun.”

“This is cowboy stuff.”

“We could be really careful. It’s for Wish.”

“You just can’t resist. Because you know something the D.A. doesn’t.”

“You know you’re going with her,” Sandy said. “So let’s get on with it. I’ll stay here and get organized.”

“I suppose we could visit Alma’s and see what we see,” Paul said. “You know, between the Cat Lady and Nate and the jabbering artist, I feel like we’re having a nuttiness epidemic.”

“Most people are nuts,” Sandy said. “You just have to clue in to their points of nuttiness.”

“Well, Britta Cowan was nuts if she drove back to Cachagua to find the artist.”

“He’s probably sitting at Alma’s right now, coming down from whatever he takes,” Nina said.

“It’s a country-music song,” Paul said. “I know that one.” He launched into an off-key, twanging tune:

I’m drownin’ my sorrows at Alma’s

I’m drownin’ my kittens at home

I’m drownin’ my paycheck in cash for cocaine

But you’re a good girl-you’ll forgive me again

He gave them a crazy grin and reached his hand under his sport coat and felt around, and Nina realized he’d been wearing the Glock in a shoulder holster the whole time.

26

J OLENE, DEBBIE, AND TORY SAT ON Debbie’s back deck on Monday afternoon. Tory’s kids had just jumped up from the picnic table, leaving a mess of ketchupy hot-dog buns and potato chips strewn from here to kingdom come. They ran down in the woods and Tory screamed a couple of warnings to them, which Jolene sincerely hoped they would pay attention to.

Callie and April, now, they were safe in summer school, learning how to be good citizens in a drug-free America, how to get up when the alarm sounds, how to do their homework every night no matter how tired or distracted they felt. But Tory and Darryl had decided to home-school, which meant Tory was their teacher, which was not working out because Tory’s pregnancy had knocked her for a loop.

The whole neighborhood was knocked for a loop. Jolene sipped her iced tea and considered how many years had gone by without much change. Maybe twenty-five years, before new people started adopting Carmel Valley. The new people weren’t supposed to supplant the old. They were supposed to blend in. Instead they brought in their strange slanted ways of looking at things until you didn’t know which way your head was screwed on anymore.

Today, another hot one, Tory wore a beige T-shirt with sea otters on it. Nobody sewed anymore except Jolene, clothes were so cheap to buy at the Ross Store in Seaside. The huge T-shirt hung like a nightgown on Tory, almost covering the loose shorts that brushed her kneecaps. The girl was a fashion disaster.

And look at Debbie, puffing on a cigarette right close to Tory, who they all knew was pregnant. Debbie in her gardening jeans, busting out of that tight tank top and wearing those hip-hop sunglasses. My.

“I’m not sure I want to go,” Debbie said. “Tell you the truth, I’m scared to death to go see her. What’m I supposed to say? She made a spectacle of herself with my husband a week ago. I don’t want to be a hypocrite.” She got up to bring the plates in and Jolene and Tory got up to help.

“No, you sit and rest,” Debbie told Tory. “Watch the kiddies.”

When the deck was all clean and swept, Jolene and Debbie sat down again.

“So? What about you?” Jolene asked Tory. “Our neighbor just about got killed, somebody has to go see her.”

“I don’t have anybody to watch the kids.”

“I’ll watch ’em,” Debbie volunteered, because she felt guilty, even though Britta was definitely not her favorite person, Jolene could understand that.

“One o’clock, then,” Jolene said to Tory, who nodded reluctantly.

“She must know who did it, but she’s been unconscious,” Tory said. “They’ve had to keep her knocked out so she wouldn’t get brain swelling. Darryl knows one of the deputy sheriffs, that’s how I know. She won’t even know we’re there. But I know we have to go.”

“Maybe she’ll clear all this up when she comes to,” Debbie said, and they all pondered this, sipping her heavy-honeyed mint tea.

“I’m not even sure I want to get it all cleared up. You know how Danny was sort of the handyman around here? How he did all the odd jobs?” Jolene said, choosing her words.

“So?” Tory said.

“It looks like one of us neighbors sure as hell did hire him to set a couple fires. He was used to doing the dirty work. Now, don’t give me that surprised look, Deb, you know it too.”

“I knew as soon as I smelled the smoke from the development across the river,” Debbie said. “Truth to tell.”

“Me too,” Tory said. “So like the lawyer says, all we need to know is who paid out over six thousand dollars a month ago. I’ll go first. I checked our bank account. Darryl paid out some money for his sick dad in Arizona about then, but it was nothing like six thousand. I didn’t want to do it, but it was pay for a nurse or have him come live with us.”

“What about that account of his in the Bahamas?” Jolene said, pointing her finger at Tory.

“Yeah, I should check on that one, shouldn’t I?” Tory said, and they all had a good laugh. “Okay, Debbie. Speak up, that’s what you do best.”

“I didn’t hire Danny. And neither did Sam.”

“And you know this-how?” inquired Jolene.

“Sam has the business account, and he keeps all that at the office. I waltzed in there and looked at his bank statement. As usual, too much money going out, but nothing like six thousand.”

“Maybe he’s been squirreling cash on the side,” Jolene said.

“He’s not a crook. Real people don’t keep two sets of books. Sam is too lazy to do that, even if he wanted to. He’s made some payments out too, but same as Darryl, just small amounts, a couple thousand at most.”