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“You think maybe she killed him?” Her ink-rimmed eyes went wide—but not with surprise, more with satisfaction. “If she did kill Tom, it serves him right.”
    â€œShh,” I cautioned, looking around to see if anyone had heard her. “You might not want to seem so pleased about the prospect.”
    Buck also surveyed the area to see if anyone had their ears tuned to us, but it appeared we were pretty much alone. “Odelia’s right. The police will push you to the wall on this; there’s no need to give them fuel for the fire. Keep comments like that to yourself and your lawyer.”
    â€œTell me,” I said to Ina, “can you think of anyone who might have had reason to kill Tom?”
    Instead of answering, Ina wiped the back of her hand across her face, dragging it over her runny nose and streaks of black makeup. Before I could dig a tissue from my purse, Buck handed her a clean blue cotton handkerchief produced from a pocket of his cargo shorts. While Ina mopped herself up, I checked Buck out, taking in the bulky tat-covered arms, the stubble on his face, and his thinning blond hair.
    He noticed my unabashed curiosity and gave me a small grin. “In spite of what that old bag with the big purse said about my upbringing, my mother taught me never to leave the house without a clean hankie.”
    â€œThat old bag is my mother,” I informed him.
    â€œOh. Sorry.” He looked away with embarrassment.
    Maybe Buck Goodwin didn’t get mad at my mother’s attack because of her age. Maybe it was just years of good upbringing that had kept him from ripping her offending purse from her arm and stomping on it, as I might have done.
    I turned my attention back to the conversation. “We’ll have to make sure the police know that Linda was here and took off.”
I looked around. “I think several others took off, too.”
    â€œYeah,” Buck agreed. “Ted Hudsinger and Pedro Serrano are both gone. No surprise there; both have had run-ins with the law over the years.”
    â€œAny problems between them and Tom?” I asked.
    Ina remained mute, but Buck shook his head and answered, “Not that I know of. They both have their issues but pretty much get along with the other buyers. Most of the regulars know each other, even if they’re not drinking buddies.”
    â€œI saw the two guys in the baseball hats try to make a break for it, but the police stopped them. What do you know about them?”
    Buck surveyed the crowd until his eyes settled on the two men I’d mentioned. “The tall one is Roberto Vasquez. He seems to be a cool enough guy—a family man. Sometimes his wife comes to the auctions with him. The guy with him today is his nephew Guillermo. He’s been coming around more lately.”
    Ina came out of her silent haze to also check out those who were left in the crowd. “Mazie Moore is also gone.” Ina wiped her nose again, this time using Buck’s handkerchief. “I’ll bet she left with Linda. Those two are thick as thieves.”
    I thought about Linda and the woman with the visor. “I didn’t notice Linda with anyone until after, when she was having words with a short black woman.”
    Ina nodded. “That would be Mazie. They always come separately, but often partner up in the bidding. They like to think the rest of us don’t know they work together, but they do.”
    â€œMazie owns two secondhand shops. One in Inglewood and another in Pico Rivera,” Buck explained.
    â€œWhere is Linda’s shop?” I asked.
    â€œShe doesn’t have one,” snorted Ina. “She mostly buys for people who can’t make the auctions. She thinks she’s so high and mighty, strutting around with that Bluetooth in her ear like she’s some high-paid rep at a fancy art auction house.”
    From the way Buck chuckled, I got the feeling he agreed with Ina about