"What was in it?"
"Damned if I know. He didn't even want to touch it. A week later someone had laid powder all around his house. He said it was dirt from a graveyard and that if the person it's meant for steps in it he'll the within the week."
"So's he still alive?" Frank scoffed.
"He didn't step in it. His wife saw it first, had a heart attack.
They're scared. That old Mother Love's got 'em pissing in their pants. They got two Rottweilers in the yard and can't figure out how someone's puttin' all this shit around without settin' the dogs off."
"Did you see any of this stuff?"
"Just some of the powder by the side of the house. Why?"
"Go back and get a couple clean samples from around the house."
"For what?" Noah asked incredulously.
"Just to have. Make sure chain of custody's clear on it."
"Oh, let me see. First it belonged to some dead guy in a cemetery, then MLJ dug it up at midnight, then she turned into a bat and sprinkled it around their house, then we got it. That's pretty clear."
Frank ignored the sarcasm.
"What else did these three stooges say? And did you get to Carrillo?"
"Carrillo's in Mexico, supposedly. Left the day before Danny went down. Evidently Echevarria—I'd say he was the bolder of the two, wouldn't you?" Noah asked Lewis.
"Yeah," she chorded, "he only went through one box of tissues."
"Evidently he went to Mother Love's after Danny ended up gutted in Carrillo's driveway. Told her they meant no disrespect and kissed her ass a couple times. They promised to be good boys and it's been quiet since then. No dead cats or graveyard dirt."
Frank asked, "So what do you think?"
Lewis looked to Noah and he was about to speak, but Frank said, "Lewis. It's your case."
She swiped an embarrassed glance around the table.
"We know from his sister, Echevarria, and Hernandez, that the vie was planning on going into business on his own. Not only would that be cutting into his aunt's profits, but it would be disrespecting her right on the street. She couldn't let that go down. It seems to me like Mother Love's our best suspect. There's nothing else pointing us another direction."
Frank raised an eyebrow at Noah.
"What she said," he answered.
"All right. Let's ride this pony. But carefully. That woman's kept her nose clean this long because she knows what she's doing. We've got to have a full arsenal before we hit her with anything."
Noah interrupted, "And even then she'll probably still slither out of the charges."
"Maybe, maybe not. If we give the DA enough material, they might be able to do their job."
"For once," Lewis grunted.
"This bad attitude I'm hearing? Mother's not psyching you out, is she?"
Lewis shook her head and Noah answered, "No, but you've gotta admit we don't exactly have a stellar conviction rate for her."
"Harvey Keitel's got a great line in Thelma and Louise" Frank said to her glass. 'Brains'll only get you so far and luck won't last forever.' Keep the faith. Sooner or later she's gotta fall. May as well be on this sword."
Frank grinned at Lewis, knowing right where to drop the bait.
"That'd be a helluva feather in your cap, huh?"
"Want us to run an interdiction on Carrillo?" the rookie asked.
"Can't hurt. I'll ask the doc when we can expect the post."
"Yeah, catch her in between arias," Noah cracked.
Frank punched his shoulder. Hard.
Next morning Tracey Jantzen flew across the mall into Frank's arms with the force and emotion of a SWAT team taking a rock house. Frank laughed as she wrapped her arms around Noah's wife.
"For Christ's sake," Tracey cried, "Where the hell have you been?"
Holding her at arm's length, Frank pleaded that work was the culprit.
"That's no excuse and you know it. I'm starting to think you don't love me anymore, now that I'm big and fat."
"Impossible. That day'll never come."
Tracey smiled up at her, saying, "I'm so glad to see you."
"Me too."
Linking an arm through Frank's, she commandeered her toward the Nordstrom entrance.
"Come on, girlfriend, we've got shopping to do! So the opera, huh? That's pretty hoity-toity."
"I don't want to get all glammed up, I just want to look... nice."
"Nice, huh? Like gold lame with a thigh-split and plunging neckline?"
"A little more modest."
"You know," Tracey teased, "I'm awfully jealous. I thought I was the only woman of your dreams."
"You are," Frank insisted, "but you're taken. What am I supposed to do?"
"You're right," Tracey agreed sensibly. "It's time for you to move on."
She paused to feel a flimsy neon-pink blouse and Frank said, "I was thinking something a little more sedate."
"Not for you," Tracey chided, holding the blouse up, "for me."
Frank nodded approvingly, but Tracey put it back. She tucked her arm into Frank's, steering her through the store with practiced assurance.
"So tell me about you and this coroner. Noah says she's a babe. When do I get to meet her?"
"We should have dinner. Invite us over. I haven't seen the kids in months."
"Yeah, we'll do that, but what's she like? You've got to tell me all about her."
"Like what?" Frank stalled.
"Everything. You must be gaga for her if you're going to all this trouble."
"You gotta look nice for the opera. It's the Pavilion. Opening night."
Tracey planted herself in front of Frank, arms crossed, and one brow arched high.
"Everything? she demanded. "How am I supposed to dress you if I don't know what your objective is?"
"I'm not busting a Colombian cartel," Frank laughed. "I don't have an objective."
"Of course, you do," Tracey insisted. "But you probably don't even know it yet."
"Well, then why don't you tell me. You and No always seem to know what I'm doing before I do it."
"How serious are you two?"
"I haven't asked her father for permission to marry her, if that's what you mean."
"You're evading the question."
"You'd have made a helluva trial lawyer. Too late for a career change?"
Tracey glowered, tapping an impatient foot.
"We can stand here all day or you can answer a simple question."
"Maybe it's not so simple."
"For you, I'm sure it's not. Do you love her?"
"Jesus, Trace." Frank looked for the hole in the ground she could dive into. "It's only been a couple months. How am I supposed to know that?"
Tracey tapped a nail above Frank's left breast.
"This'll tell you."
Frank knew that was true. And she knew more than she could admit to. Some words were still just too hard.
"I like her a lot. Okay?"
"Now, see? That wasn't so bad. And does she like you?"
"Yeah, but I piss her off."
"No," Tracey mocked. "I can't imagine."
"What?"
"Honey, I love you, but I can't imagine being in love with you."
"Why not?" Frank asked, somewhat hurt.
"You can be as sweet as the day is long—I know that—but you come with a lot of baggage."
"I'm working on it."
"You still seeing that shrink?"
Tracey could get away with the question for two reasons—she was her best friend's wife, and she was a psych tech; Frank knew nothing was implied.
"Nope. But I'm ... I see things different now. It's okay. The stuff that bugs her, it's the stuff that would bug any civilian. You know how it is. The shit we see. Human and otherwise. Rubs off on us after a while. Gail was raised in Berkeley. Ultra PC. She's got a sensitivity that I lack." Frank paused. "She thinks I drink too much."