daughter, with black bangs cut straight across her forehead. World at her feet, her walk seemed to say, and it had been there for aeons. Top of the karmic heap.
She disappeared into a back room. I followed. It was an entertainment room, and P.J. was slouched on a sofa, his back to me, watching TV. Beyond him, outside the windows, the mountains shone green in the patchy sunlight. Clouds shredded on the peaks.
‘‘Peej.’’ The girl sat down on the arm of the sofa, swinging her feet onto the cushions. ‘‘That was the doorbell. You should have answered it.’’
He straightened. ‘‘Didn’t hear it, sorry. Who was it?’’
‘‘Pizza girl.’’ She licked the spoon. ‘‘Give her a tip.’’ He stood up, looked around at me, and did a double take. ‘‘Hey.’’ He lifted his chin in greeting.
‘‘Let’s talk,’’ I said.
He looked rough. His skin was pasty, his eyes grimy blue. His khakis sagged low on his hips, showing off four inches of his frayed plaid boxers. Nothing looked clean.
The girl gazed at him with sleepy eyes. ‘‘Stepping out on me?’’
She might have poked him with a cattle prod. ‘‘No, this is Jesse’s girlfriend.’’
‘‘Hi, Jesse’s girlfriend.’’ She slid down onto the sofa, arching her back so that her frosty rivets protruded.
‘‘I’m Sin.’’
Right. ‘‘I’m deadly, myself. Evan Delaney.’’
Her eyes slid my way, and her mouth ticked up into a smile. ‘‘Sinsemilla. Or Sinsa.’’
‘‘Jimson?’’ I said.
‘‘Check my driver’s license.’’
‘‘That’s okay. I saw the plates on your X5 this morning, outside Sanchez Marks. In a disabled spot.’’
She turned her bottomless black gaze on me. ‘‘Really?’’
‘‘You were playing the same rap album. Enjoying the lyrics—that line about spanking the bitch’s ass with both hands. You were laughing.’’
‘‘We’d just picked up a friend of mine at the airport.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘Nobody was parked there.’’
‘‘There never is, when you pull in.’’
‘‘Bad me.’’ She slapped herself on the wrist. ‘‘Boy-friend. Long time no see. We were in a hurry.’’ She dug a new spoonful of ice cream from the carton and glanced at P.J. He was watching her as though hypnotized. ‘‘Nah, I’m kidding. And P.J. and I aren’t together. We’re fuck buddies, is all.’’
Okay, now I knew exactly what it took to make me feel like a starched shirt. P.J.’s color flooded back. His foot began jittering.
‘‘Excuse us, would you?’’ I nodded toward the door. ‘‘P.J. Outside.’’
He winced at the sight of trees swaying in the wind, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He was monstrously hungover.
‘‘In my car,’’ I said.
He followed me along the hall to the front door, through the thud of the music, gesturing to the living room. ‘‘Can’t we talk in there?’’
‘‘I’d rather not bump into Karen,’’ I said.
‘‘She ran to the store.’’
I shook my head, opening the door. I didn’t want to be overheard. He bent to avoid the wind and hurried to the Explorer, huddling into the passenger seat and tucking his hands into his armpits to warm them.
He blinked as though his eyes felt gritty. ‘‘You okay? You look kind of zapped.’’
I turned to face him. ‘‘They found her. She washed up at Jericho Point.’’
‘‘Who?’’
I gaped at him. ‘‘P.J., don’t. I saw her body at the morgue two hours ago.’’
‘‘The morgue.’’
‘‘She didn’t fall off the balcony. She was murdered.’’
He shook his head as though trying to clear it. ‘‘What are you talking about?’’
‘‘The party last night. She was garroted and dumped off the cliff into the surf.’’
‘‘Party.’’ He shrank back toward the door. ‘‘Stop. You’re scaring me.’’
I stared at him, hard. ‘‘Christ.’’
He was used to fibbing his way out of tight corners. But right now he wasn’t giving me sweet talk or a smile.
She disappeared into a back room. I followed. It was an entertainment room, and P.J. was slouched on a sofa, his back to me, watching TV. Beyond him, outside the windows, the mountains shone green in the patchy sunlight. Clouds shredded on the peaks.
‘‘Peej.’’ The girl sat down on the arm of the sofa, swinging her feet onto the cushions. ‘‘That was the doorbell. You should have answered it.’’
He straightened. ‘‘Didn’t hear it, sorry. Who was it?’’
‘‘Pizza girl.’’ She licked the spoon. ‘‘Give her a tip.’’ He stood up, looked around at me, and did a double take. ‘‘Hey.’’ He lifted his chin in greeting.
‘‘Let’s talk,’’ I said.
He looked rough. His skin was pasty, his eyes grimy blue. His khakis sagged low on his hips, showing off four inches of his frayed plaid boxers. Nothing looked clean.
The girl gazed at him with sleepy eyes. ‘‘Stepping out on me?’’
She might have poked him with a cattle prod. ‘‘No, this is Jesse’s girlfriend.’’
‘‘Hi, Jesse’s girlfriend.’’ She slid down onto the sofa, arching her back so that her frosty rivets protruded.
‘‘I’m Sin.’’
Right. ‘‘I’m deadly, myself. Evan Delaney.’’
Her eyes slid my way, and her mouth ticked up into a smile. ‘‘Sinsemilla. Or Sinsa.’’
‘‘Jimson?’’ I said.
‘‘Check my driver’s license.’’
‘‘That’s okay. I saw the plates on your X5 this morning, outside Sanchez Marks. In a disabled spot.’’
She turned her bottomless black gaze on me. ‘‘Really?’’
‘‘You were playing the same rap album. Enjoying the lyrics—that line about spanking the bitch’s ass with both hands. You were laughing.’’
‘‘We’d just picked up a friend of mine at the airport.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘Nobody was parked there.’’
‘‘There never is, when you pull in.’’
‘‘Bad me.’’ She slapped herself on the wrist. ‘‘Boy-friend. Long time no see. We were in a hurry.’’ She dug a new spoonful of ice cream from the carton and glanced at P.J. He was watching her as though hypnotized. ‘‘Nah, I’m kidding. And P.J. and I aren’t together. We’re fuck buddies, is all.’’
Okay, now I knew exactly what it took to make me feel like a starched shirt. P.J.’s color flooded back. His foot began jittering.
‘‘Excuse us, would you?’’ I nodded toward the door. ‘‘P.J. Outside.’’
He winced at the sight of trees swaying in the wind, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He was monstrously hungover.
‘‘In my car,’’ I said.
He followed me along the hall to the front door, through the thud of the music, gesturing to the living room. ‘‘Can’t we talk in there?’’
‘‘I’d rather not bump into Karen,’’ I said.
‘‘She ran to the store.’’
I shook my head, opening the door. I didn’t want to be overheard. He bent to avoid the wind and hurried to the Explorer, huddling into the passenger seat and tucking his hands into his armpits to warm them.
He blinked as though his eyes felt gritty. ‘‘You okay? You look kind of zapped.’’
I turned to face him. ‘‘They found her. She washed up at Jericho Point.’’
‘‘Who?’’
I gaped at him. ‘‘P.J., don’t. I saw her body at the morgue two hours ago.’’
‘‘The morgue.’’
‘‘She didn’t fall off the balcony. She was murdered.’’
He shook his head as though trying to clear it. ‘‘What are you talking about?’’
‘‘The party last night. She was garroted and dumped off the cliff into the surf.’’
‘‘Party.’’ He shrank back toward the door. ‘‘Stop. You’re scaring me.’’
I stared at him, hard. ‘‘Christ.’’
He was used to fibbing his way out of tight corners. But right now he wasn’t giving me sweet talk or a smile.
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