Smith. Smith? Right.â
âSome people are actually named Smith.â He left my share of the retainer on his desk and slid the envelope containing the remainder into his suit-coat pocket.
âAnd his sister has a different last name?â
âFamilies are complicated nowadays. Lindsey and Robin had different last names.â
Bile started up my windpipe. Lindsey and Robin . I wanted to curse him. I bit my tongue, literally. It worked. I gained deeper knowledge about the provenance of a clichéd expression. And I said nothing.
Peralta, typically, bulled ahead. âHow is Lindsey?â
âFine.â How the hell should I know? Sheâs only my wife, a continent away physically and even further in the geography of the heart.
âWhen did you talk to her last?â
I told him I called her on Sunday. I called her every Sunday, timing it so I would catch her around noon in D.C.
âSheâll get tired of Washington and Homeland Security,â he said. âItâs a temporary gig, right?â
âI guess.â
It was a temporary position that seemed to have no end.
âWhen sheâs ready to come home, we could use her here.â
I said nothing. Yes, she was the best at cyber crimes. That was the job she did for Peralta when he was sheriff. But the last place my wife wanted to be was back in Phoenix.
I started coughing again. Three wildfires were burning in the forests north and northeast of the city. The previous year had been the worst wildfire season on record and we were off to an ambitious start now. It was the new normal. Yesterday the smoke had combined with the usual smog to obscure the mountains. Somebody flying into Sky Harbor would never know why this was called the Valley of the Sun. The gunk was sending people with asthma to emergency rooms and making me cough. Quite an irony for a place that once claimed clean, dry air that had made it a haven for people with lung ailments.
But that was the least of the reasons why Lindsey didnât want to be here.
Sitting back down, I said again, âWe shouldnât take this case.â
Peraltaâs obsidian eyes darkened further. âWhy?â
âFelix the Cat in his fifteen-hundred-dollar suit, paying you in hundred-dollar bills. Heâs hiding something. Maybe Zisman had a mistress or not. Maybe Felix is using us for some vendetta against Zisman. The guyâs pretty clean from what I remember. He actually came back home to Arizona after making it big and has tried to help out poor kids. Now hereâs some dude in an expensive suit who wants us to play morals police.â
âHe only asked us to investigate a suspicious death,â he said. âRemember, Felix bridled when you implied Grace was involved with this Zisman.â
That was true. Why was I fighting against taking this case?
Peralta swept his arm wide. âHalf the bigs in Phoenix stash their mistresses in San Diego condos. Big deal. But we have our first paying client. Have a sense of celebration, Mapstone. This might not lead anywhere. It probably wonât. If not, weâll refund most of his money. Bringing the family comfort and closure is a big thing. We can get out of town for a few days, go to a nice, cool place.â
I was still about to gasp from Mike Peralta using the word closure . I managed, âYou go. Iâll hold down the fort. Who knows, we might get another client.â
âYouâre coming with me. You know San Diego.â
âItâs changed a lot since I lived there.â
âWell, you used to live there.â
I tried not saying anything.
âYou wonât see Patty.â
I could feel my cheeks warming. âThis has nothing to do with Patty.â
âI know you,â he said.
Yes, he did. He had known me as a young deputy he trained. And then all the years I was away teaching, finally ending up in San Diego. And he had known me when I was married to Patty in San