“Spencer Duvall’s death,” he said. Something told him to let her take the lead in this.

She put on sunglasses. “Poor Spence,” she said. “Why ‘poor Spence’?”

“Kind of. . sad, don’t you think?”

“Murder is rarely happy.”

“I mean him. He was kind of sad.”

Louis heard a door and looked back to see the maid coming toward them carrying a tray.

“Candace should be back soon,” Hayley said. “She’s getting her nails done.”

“I’d rather talk to you,” Louis said.

The maid stopped abruptly when she recognized Louis. “Mrs. Duvall told you not to come back here,” she said.

Hayley raised an eyebrow at Louis, then waved the maid forward. “Never mind, Luisa,” she said, “just give me the drink and go away.”

The maid scowled at Louis and left.

“I’m sorry,” Hayley said to Louis. “You want a Long Island iced tea? I told her to use the Belvedere this time. It’s really good.”

“No thanks. Tell me more about Spencer. How well did you know him?”

She took a sip of the drink. “Not well. We moved in different circles.”

“Your circles intersected,” Louis said.

Hayley smiled and gave a small shrug. “I flunked geometry.”

There was nothing to do but go for the throat. “How long have you and Candace Duvall been together?” he asked.

He couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark glasses, but she was still smiling.

“About a year,” she said finally. “We met at the Body Works. I teach yoga and aerobics there.”

“Did her husband know about you?”

She shrugged again. “Candy didn’t want me coming over here when he was home. One time he came home early when I was here and she introduced me as her personal trainer.” Her smile had faded.

“So Candace isn’t. .” Louis hesitated.

“Out of the closet?” Hayley reached for the suntan lotion. “Nope.”

Something sour had crept into Hayley’s voice. “Are you?” Louis asked.

“Since high school.”

Hayley was rubbing lotion on her chest. Louis was trying not to look at her.

“Did Candace know her husband was going to file for divorce?” he asked finally.

“Yeah, she knew.”

“You’re sure?”

Hayley nodded. “She said one night that when she got the papers, she was gonna go stuff them up Brian’s ass.”

“Brian? Brian Brenner?”

“Yeah. You know him?”

Louis shook his head. “So Candace didn’t want a divorce?”

“Nope. She was perfectly happy playing the game.”

That bitter tone had returned to her voice again.

“Did Spencer tell Candace why he wanted a divorce?” Louis asked.

“If he did, she didn’t tell me.”

Hayley was looking at the house. Louis followed her gaze. The maid was standing at the French doors, staring at them.

“God, I hate that woman,” Hayley murmured. “She speaks Spanish because she thinks I don’t know what she’s saying. Shit, I learned what tortillera meant in ninth grade.”

She looked back at Louis, shielding her eyes. “You mind sitting down? You’re blocking my sun.”

Louis sat on the edge of the lounge chair next to hers. At least he had found out Candace knew about the divorce. But he had the feeling there was more and that Hayley, for whatever reason, was willing to talk.

“Your landlord told me to tell you not to expect your security deposit back,” he said.

She laughed. “I got all the security I need now.” She took a big gulp of her drink. “So, what did you do to piss Candy off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t smell nice enough.”

Hayley laughed again, a big whoop this time. “Yeah, she’s big on smells.”

Louis looked at the house. The maid was still there, watching him. He had the feeling that if he didn’t leave soon, he was going to end up in jail for trespassing. Candace could show up any minute.

“I think I better get going,” he said, rising.

“Wise choice,” Hayley said. She took off her sunglasses and laid back in the lounge, closing her eyes.

He started to leave, then turned back. “Why did you call Spencer Duvall ‘sad’?” he asked.

Hayley looked at him. “Because he was.”

“Why? Because his wife was cheating on him?”

A slow smile came to Hayley’s face, and Louis had the feeling that she was humoring him, like she might a boy who had just figured out what sex was.

“Spencer was gay,” she said.

Louis was dumbstruck. Which made her smile even more.

“And he didn’t want to be,” she added.

He could think of only one thing to ask. “Did Candace know?”

“What do you think?”

She was grinning, enjoying his bewilderment. “Candy was his beard,” she said. “Or he was hers. I’m not sure how it worked, to be honest. All I know is that they found each other in college and kind of struck a bargain to prop up each other’s lies.”

“So their marriage-”

“. . was pretend,” Hayley finished. “You know, like a fairy tale.” She let out a whoop of laughter again.

Louis couldn’t conceal his surprise, and that made Hayley laugh even harder.

“So who was Spencer. .?” he asked.

“Sleeping with?” She smiled. “I don’t have a clue. Do you?”

Louis’s eyes wandered up over the huge white house, across the glistening pool and out over sparkling San Carlos Bay.

He couldn’t think of one more damn thing to ask. Except maybe to Brian Brenner. It was definitely time to go back and talk to the lying divorce lawyer. He looked back at Hayley.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

Hayley wiggled down into the lounge and brought her arms up behind her head. She gave him a big smile.

“Because I’m out and I’m not going to let her put me back in.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Brenner, Brenner and Brenner. Louis stood in the lobby, looking at the gilt letters on the door. He knew that Brian Brenner had a brother named Scott. The third had to be the father, he guessed.

His eyes caught a portrait on a far wall. It was of three men, all wearing gray suits. Brian was on the left, his somber doughy face made thinner, his wispy hair thicker by the artist’s kindness. The man on the right was about Brian’s age, with thick hair the color of coffee beans and eyes to match. Had to be the older brother, Scott. The artist had given Scott a small smile, but God had obviously given him the looks in the family.

The older man in the middle had to be the father, a distinguished looking white-haired man of about sixty. His eyes were so blue they jumped off the canvas. It was the only spot of real color in the painting.

“What are you doing here?”

Louis turned.

Brian Brenner stood at the door to his office. His suit coat was off, and the collar of his white shirt open, the blue tie loose. He was holding a wadded-up tissue in one hand and a file in the other.

“I was hoping you could see me for a minute.”

“I’m a busy man.”

“So am I.”

Brian tossed the file on the secretary’s desk and went back in his office, leaving the door open. Louis followed him in.

Brian’s office was stacked with files and storage boxes. A conference table near the large window was covered with papers. The two women at the table both looked up at Louis. Brian waved his hand toward his door.

“Give us a minute, would you?” he said to the women.

The women rose slowly and disappeared while Brian noisily blew his nose. He looked terrible.

“Allergies acting up again?” Louis asked.

“Something in bloom,” Brian said, waving a hand at the window.

Another door opened and a man emerged from a bathroom. Louis recognized him from the portrait outside and quickly extended a hand, hoping to warm up Scott Brenner before he assumed the same cool posture as Brian.

“Scott Brenner? I’m Louis Kincaid, private investigator.”

Scott offered his hand and a warm smile.

“He’s working for Outlaw and Jack Cade,” Brian said.

Scott laughed softly. “Chill out, little brother. Everyone has to make a living, even defense lawyers. What can we do for you, Mr. Kincaid?”