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case is still open apparently,” Veronica said. “They never figured out what happened. Or maybe they didn’t try very hard. The version I got might have been…biased.”
    “Was that guy her lawyer?” Mac asked. “Are we going after the rapist?”
    Veronica hesitated, and in that single beat of silence Keith saw her blush very slightly.
    “He was an insurance adjustor. But he does want to find out who did it.” Her eyes flickered toward Keith and away as quickly. “We’re not being asked to determine liability, just help the hotel’s legal staff do it. But, you know, there’s a chance that finding the rapist could be a by-product of this noble mission.”
    “Well, that’s—depressing,” Mac said finally, her chin sinking heavily on her hand. “ ‘Hey! Sorry the actual criminal justice system couldn’t get the job done, but maybe if you threaten someone’s bank account we’ll be able to help you.’ ”
    Weevil just smirked. “Congratulations, you live in Neptune.”
    Veronica grabbed the neck of one of the few remaining Scotch bottles with a couple of swigs left in it. “Excuse me for troubling your Capraesque lives with this first-ever note of moral unclarity.” She poured a dram into her glass and set the bottle back down with a loud
clunk
.
    Keith laughed. “Fair enough.” There was always plenty of Monday-morning quarterbacking in their field, and he’d certainly had his share of successes, noble failures, and outright fiascos. He drained the final mouthful of booze from his glass, put his feet up on an ottoman, and drifted back into his own thoughts.
    Then, out of left field:
    “ ‘But maybe if you threaten someone’s bank account…’ ”
    “Say what?” Cliff said.
    “Oh, just what Mac said a minute ago. It touched off something in my mind.”
    “About what Veronica’s doing?” Cliff said, still scrambling.
    “No, about us. And Lamb. Innovative cat-skinning solutions for a changing world.”
    Cliff’s face lit up as understanding hit. “For a busted old mule, you’re pretty fucking smart. What can I do to help?”
    “Well, for starters, who do you know in civil?” Keith leaned forward to the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees.
    “Horowitz is good but he’s got a full caseload these days.” Cliff was pulling file folders and stacks of paperwork out of his briefcase. “Jarvis and Associates have a good team. Choi’s an up-and-comer—I’m pretty sure she’d take it just for the publicity.”
    “What are you guys talking about?” asked Veronica. She held her glass halfway to her lips, glancing back and forth between them.
    Instead of answering, Keith and Cliff both turned to face Weevil.
    “Eli,” said Keith. “What do you think about bringing a lawsuit against the Balboa County Sheriff’s Department?”
    Weevil gave a little start, blinking rapidly.
    “I don’t know if you realize, but I just got
out
of a lawsuit with them. I’m kind of happy it’s over, you know?”
    “This would be different,” Cliff said. “We’d be on the offense this time. We’d be looking to prove that the deputy who arrived on the scene planted that gun on you.”
    Veronica drew in a breath. “You could use all the evidence the judge threw out. All those other people who claim evidence was planted? You could publicly rake Lamb over the coals. If we do this right, the worst-case scenario is that his career is over.”
    “And what’s the best case?” Weevil asked, smiling as he anticipated her reply.
    “The civil case leads to a criminal one, and Dan Lamb goes to prison for five, maybe up to ten years.”
    The energy in the room surged. Keith let himself imagine the look on Lamb’s face as he sat on the stand, proof of his own corruption on public display.
    “This would help recoup at least some of what you’ve lost, Eli,” Cliff said. “At risk of sounding like a daytime-TV commercial, you could claim medical costs, lost income, pain and suffering. And