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Bay passed him a glass.
    “I don’t remember you being this hospitable the last time I came around,” Raney said.
    “I brought you something else, too.”
    Bay pulled a manila folder from under the pillow beside him.
    “Interpol came back fast with those prints,” he said.
    Bay tossed him the folder. Raney set his glass on the TV next to a vase of fake orchids. He opened the file, skimmed the top page, paraphrased aloud.
    “Cartel kids. Twins. Ramon and Luisa Gonzalez. Low-level border hoppers, picked up twice apiece for possession with intent, released both times thanks to a big-name lawyer neither of them could possibly afford.”
    Raney paused, turned the page.
    “But their uncle could,” he said.
    “Their uncle?”
    “Sergio Gonzalez, capo in the Nuevo Milenio cartel. I remember him as a lieutenant from my narco days. Ran a pipeline all the way up to Montreal. He must have gone into business for himself. That doesn’t happen without a body count.”
    “What did Jack get himself mixed up in?” Bay said.
    “Nothing he has to worry about now.”
    “That’s kind of cold, even from you.”
    “He killed that girl. He raped her first, or tried to.”
    “Yeah, I know,” Bay said. “Jack never was worth much. God rest his soul.”
    Raney drained his glass, reached out for another.
    “You mind if I ask you a question?”
    “What’s that?”
    “Why are you here?”
    “To give you that file,” Bay said.
    “You live forty miles out of town and you waited here an hour to give me information I couldn’t possibly do anything with until morning?”
    Bay set his glass down.
    “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve got a confession to make.”
    “Should I Mirandize you?”
    “This ain’t a joke, Raney.”
    He waited for Bay to say more.
    “I should have told you earlier.”
    “Told me what?”
    “I had no business sitting in on that interview.”
    Raney smiled, tapped at a plastic flower with his index finger.
    “You, too, Bay?” he said. “Mavis is all right, but she must have more than meets the eye.”
    “It’s not the kind of thing I’m inclined to do on a good day. I don’t want to make excuses, but Jack never did treat her right. Not since the day they met.”
    “Then why didn’t she leave him?”
    Bay shrugged.
    “I wish I could say.”
    “How long ago?”
    “Thirty-plus years. And we’ve been nothing more than cordial since.”
    “Relax, Bay. She probably doesn’t remember.”
    “Don’t be an ass.”
    “I’m kidding,” Raney said. “Besides, my skeletons could eat yours for breakfast. Still, you shouldn’t have been in the room. It’s not like she confessed, so I don’t think it can hurt us at trial. But you’ll have to keep your distance.”
    “It’s a little early for you to be talking about trial.”
    “Maybe.”
    “But you don’t think so?”
    “No.”
    Bay rubbed his stubble with the backs of his fingers.
    “You’re out on a long limb with this one, Raney.”
    “She knew about the drugs. She told one of her latest boyfriends that Jack was using.”
    “Doesn’t mean she knew he was selling.”
    “The one is a stretch without the other. She’s involved, Bay. You’re right, though: there was more to the job than she could have handled alone.”
    “So what’s next?”
    “We need to focus on the missing coke. I’ll take another go at Mavis in the morning. I know some things now that I didn’t know when we started.”
    “You might bring Junior a cup of coffee. An Americano, with just a little cream. I wasn’t kidding about the narcolepsy.”
    Bay stood, stretched out his arms. “Let’s end this day,” he said.
    “Sounds good. Thanks again for the hooch.”
    “Don’t mention it. But I would like to hear about those skeletons sometime.”
      
    Alone, Raney walked into the bathroom, dug his handkerchief from his pocket, set both dimebags on the vanity. He stared down at them, feeling more curiosity than craving. It made no difference how many