Spiral

here, and Malinda was not even at the party that day.”
    ”But a lot of other people were,” I said, ”and maybe one of them was worried that Ms. Dujong would find out something.”
    ”What?”
    ”The same thing I have.”
    Radescu stared at me searchingly, then finally smiled. ”You’re bluffing.”
    ”Why would I?”
    A broader smile. ”He’s bluffing, Cassie.”
    From the sofa, Helides said, ”How would you know?”
    ”I crawl on my belly under the guns of border soldiers, I know when somebody can shoot you and when they can’t.” Radescu turned back to me. ”And you don’t have any bullets in your gun.”
    ”We’ll find out tomorrow.”
    A cloud came over Radescu’s eyes. ”Tomorrow?”
    ”When I’m going to get the hard evidence to back up what I’ve already figured out.”
    ”It’s still a bluff,” but without the smile now.
    ”You’ll be the first to know.”
    As I walked toward his door, I could hear Cassandra Helides say behind me, ”Hey, Malinda’s so into New Age shit, maybe she can just beam you a message from her brain.”

    There was a parking lot for some charitable organization fifty yards west of the tennis club’s gate. A dozen or so people were moving boxes and clothes from car trunks and pickup trucks into a building. Most of the people were black, one white and one Latino. Two of the blacks and the Latino asked if I needed help carrying anything in for the ”drive.” I said, thanks but no, I was just waiting for someone to come back out.
    And, in a way, I was.
    Traffic ebbed and flowed through the club entrance, but I knew Radescu’s Checker and Cassandra Helides’s Porsche. I also figured her boyfriend would be pretty distinctive behind the wheel of any vehicle, even at my distance from the gate.
    At least, that’s what I figured.
    After two hours, neither showed. I told myself I’d give it another.
    When my watch read 6:30, I started the Achieva and headed back toward the Isle of Athens.

    The January sun was long down, so sitting outside didn’t seem a viable option. I was getting pretty tired of the den, but Nicolas Helides seemed to prefer it over his living room. And, given that latter area was where he’d last seen his granddaughter alive—despite what she’d been singing to him about, and how—I could understand the preference. What I couldn’t understand was Justo.
    From his signature chair, the Skipper looked at a clock on the big desk for maybe the third time in five minutes. Seven-forty-five p.m. now, the news from it not getting any better.
    Helides said, ”I have never known Lieutenant Vega to be late.”
    Duy Tranh nodded from the corner of the couch, sitting himself for a change, though not looking particularly comfortable. ”At least without calling.”
    At seven-fifty, I said, ”You have Justo’s phone number handy?”
    Tranh stood up. ”Office, home, or cellular?”
    I locked my eyes on his. ”We’ll try all three.”

    The answering service at Justo’s office told me he was gone for the day to an appointment and not reachable. His cellular number rang four times, then just forwarded to the service again. I dialed the home one and drew a familiar voice answering in Spanish.
    ”Pepe?”
    ”Who is this, please?”
    ”John Cuddy.”
    ”Hey, Mr. Whatever, how you doing?”
    ”I’m doing fine, but we’ve been waiting for Justo at the Colonel’s house for nearly an hour.”
    Very quietly, Pepe said, ”Mr. Vega, he tell me he suppose to be there at like seven.”
    ”You weren’t driving him?”
    ”No. He don’t like it so much when one of us not with his wife and little kids in the nighttime.”
    ”And you haven’t heard from him?”
    A woman’s voice spoke some Spanish in the background, Pepe answering her briefly with a laugh in his voice. Then he said into the phone, ”Give to me your number. I cannot talk so easy here.”

TWENTY-TWO

    I was still exchanging stares with Nicolas Helides and Duy Tranh when the phone rang a minute later. I picked it up, Pepe speaking before I could.
    ”Talk to me about what you know, man.”
    I told him the same things about Justo that he’d heard in my call a minute before.
    Pepe said, ”Mr. Vega, he no tell you he going anyplace else?”
    ”No.”
    Only silence from his end.
    ”Pepe?”
    ”I got to think, man.”
    His voice was tight, like a dog wheezing while straining against a leash. When Pepe came back, though, his tone was more resigned. ”Mr. Vega, he worry about the