“Misery’s at the scene of a bank robbery.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” He was learning.

“I’ll be at the Jug-N-Chug off Broadway.”

“That strip club?”

“No, and ew. The convenience store.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d changed professions.”

“Dude, you do not want to see what I look like dancing with a pole. I did it once at a bridal shower, and let’s just say it did not end well.”

“You pole-danced at a bridal shower?”

“It’s a long story. Are you going to come get me or not?”

“I guess. It’ll take me a few to get there.”

“Well, hurry. I have shit to do. And I could be arrested as an accessory, so I need to get on this.” I still had to check on Harper and do some more investigating on her behalf. My imminent arrest as an accessory to bank robbery would cut into my crime-solving time.

“Are you using that handbag that has the word f**k written all over it again? I warned you about taking that out in public.”

“Not for an accessory. As an accessory. Just come get me.”

“Okay.”

I hung up and called my friendish-type contact at the local FBI office. We’d met on a case a couple of months ago, and I liked her. She made me smile, and she hardly ever threatened to arrest me. We got along great. And I knew she’d be a good ally if I happened to show up in the aftermath of a bank robbery as a suspect.

Since I didn’t have a candy wrapper to help me with the bad connection I was about to have, I resorted to using vocal sound effects. When Agent Carson picked up, I started my performance. “Agent … Agent Carson,” I said, panting into the phone.

“Yes, Charley.” She seemed unimpressed, but I wasn’t about to stop now.

“I—I know who the kshshshshshsh are.”

“I’m a little busy right now, Davidson. What is a Ksh, and why do I care?”

“I’m sorry. My kshshsh … is kshshsh … ing.”

“I repeat. What is a Ksh? And why do I care if it is ksh-ing?”

She was a tough one. I knew I should have waited and bought a Butterfinger at the Jug-N-Chug. Those wrappers crackled like Rice Krispies on a Saturday morning. “You aren’t listeni—kshshsh.”

“You’re really bad at this.”

“Bank ro-ksh-ers. I know who they kshshsh.”

“Charley, if you don’t cut this crap out.”

I hung up and turned off my phone before she could figure out what I was trying not to tell her and call back. The whole thing would have been more convincing if she’d found me tied up on the floor of an asylum. Luckily, that rarely happened.

* * *

I made it to the store in record time, but all I could afford was a banana. They were on sale, and the mocha lattes were ungodly. I totally forgot to ask Reyes for my million dollars. This being too poor to buy coffee was for the birds.

Cookie called just as Garrett pulled up. I’d turned my phone back on as a precaution when a man in an old Cadillac kept asking me if I wanted to sample his antifreeze.

Still trying to blend with the locals, I answered the phone saying, “’Sup, girlfriend?”

“Are you in a bad part of town again?”

“You know it.” I climbed into Garrett’s truck and completely ignored him. It was fun. “But I did learn something today.”

“Yeah?”

“If you must eat a banana in public, never make eye contact.”

“Good to know. So, I looked into the activity around the time all this started, when Harper’s parents were married. It’s mostly small stuff, except for a murder in the Monzano Mountains, but that was solved. There was also a missing persons case that was never solved, a little boy, but that was in Peralta. As far as I can tell, neither had anything to do with the Lowells.”

“Well, okay. Thanks for looking.”

“Oh, and that shrink will see you, but only if you skedaddle over there. He’s has a couple more appointments today, then he’s headed out of town.”

“Oh, perfect timing. If you come across anything else.”

“I know where to find you.”

I hung up and offered Garrett my full-ish attention. Actually, a guy arguing with a newspaper dispenser captured most of it, but what was left, I handed over to Swopes freely.

“Hola.”

“So, where are we going, or are we just going to sit here until I run out of gas?”

I was just about to answer when Agent Carson called back. Darn it. I should have turned off my phone again.

I pointed east, ordering Swopes that way, then answered the phone. When I started to do the ksh thing, she said, “Don’t even think about it. Why is your Jeep at the scene of a bank robbery?”

“Oh,” I said, panting again, “thank God you got ahold of me.” I swallowed hard. Garrett shook his head and focused on his driving. I was totally behind him on that decision. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I was taken hostage.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the surveillance footage.”

“Right, so you know—”

“Do you realize how many years you’ll get for this?”

Well, crap. “I really was taken hostage. Kind of. And I can tell you who the bank robbers are.”

After a long pause in which I was certain she was recovering from the shock of her good fortune, she said, “I’m listening.”