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glanced at his watch. “Please cancel any appointments, Esperanza, and take the rest of the day off.”
    We went into his office, where Nando extracted a bottle of Havana Club Gran Reserva rum and two glasses from a wall cabinet and placed them on his desk. I pulled up a chair and sat down across from him. It occurred to me that the last time we shared a drink like this was the day, some twenty-odd months ago, that Picasso was sprung from jail and murder charges against him were dropped. It was a case Nando and I had worked together. Good liquor can go either way, I observed—either a means of celebration or a balm in the face of unspeakable tragedy.
    Nando poured without speaking, neat, no ice. His face was drawn tight, eyes dull as lampblack, his body somehow shrunken in grief. He let out a deep sigh. “I waited my whole life for Claudia. Other women? Oh, they were nice enough. But when I met Claudia…” He shook his head slowly, his voice tailing away as his eyes filled.
    I knew from experience that shedding grief is a marathon, not a sprint, and that talking is the best first step. We drank and I let my friend talk until he’d poured out the contents of his heart. Well into our second glass, the room fell silent except for the hum of traffic out on Ninety-second and the occasional shard of a guitar chord from a busker playing on the corner. I finally spoke into the silence. “So, I got the impression Scott likes Cardenas for this more than he likes you.”
    â€œWell, I am sure they checked my whereabouts last night. If the killing took place before fout-thirty a.m., then I am cleared. If not the boyfriend, then the ex-husband. It is only logical. Besides, I told them he threatened Claudia.”
    â€œHad he?”
    He shrugged. “She said she was not afraid of him. Those words imply a threat, do they not?”
    â€œSometimes. What else did Claudia say about him?”
    â€œShe didn’t say anything until a couple of weeks ago. Apparently the ball of slime had moved back to Portland from Las Vegas, where he had supposedly made a great deal of money.”
    â€œDoing what, exactly?”
    â€œPoker, I am told. I don’t understand this American obsession with gambling. A stupid way to use your money, unless you are the house, of course. Anyway, he came back to Portland and pledged to Claudia that he was finished with the gambling. He expected her to come crawling back to him. When she told him about me, he flew into a rage.”
    â€œDid you confront him?”
    â€œI wanted to, I should have, but Claudia insisted on handling it herself. That’s when she told me she was not afraid of him.” Shaking his head, he stared past me, mumbling, “ No debí haber escuchado a ella. ”
    â€œAny idea why she would meet him, or anyone, for that matter, in a vacant lot in Old Town in the middle of the night?”
    Nando sighed and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. “Maybe she was killed somewhere else.”
    I shook my head. “Not likely.”
    â€œIf she did go there to meet someone, I am missing the clues, Calvin. He must have tricked her somehow. It seems very strange to me.”
    â€œStrange, for sure,” I said, shifting in my seat.
    The room fell silent again. A Clapton-esque fragment drifted in from the guitar player. Nando drained his glass and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “It was Cardenas who killed my Claudia, Calvin. I can feel it in my body.”
    I nodded. Not in agreement, but simply to acknowledge his comment. I wasn’t there yet but knew better than to say so.

Chapter Seven
    Kelly
    To keep things looking normal to the outside world, Kelly decided she’d better go to class before buying the phone for Rupert. She took the bus back across the river and despite the pain in her ankle and calf, gritted her teeth and walked without a limp. The first thing she heard after being buzzed into New