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After a pause, Flint said mildly, “No guns were drawn, let alone blazing. I asked a couple of basic questions, Franken lost his mind—he wasn’t very convincing in his denials, let me tell you that—and I left.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you’re convinced or not. He told you the truth. Which you’d have known, if you talked to me first.”

“I get it, I get it. I should have communicated with you.” Flint did not sound bored, exactly, but he did sound like it was a complaint he had received many times before—which did little to relieve Zach’s concerns.

“If you don’t want to keep working together, then say so—”

“Hold on. When did I say I didn’t want to work together?” Flint seemed genuinely startled. “You made your point, Zachariah. I’ll…confer with you first the next time I decide to deviate from the flight pattern.” Before Zach could respond, Flint added, “BeforeI decide.”

Frankly, that was way more of a concession than Zach had expected. In fact, he hadn’t expected any concession.

Into his silence, Flint asked, “Okay?”

Zach said lamely, “Okay.” He added, “Thank you.”

“You’re not being unreasonable,” Flint conceded magnanimously.

Zach rolled his eyes. Still, a concession was a concession.

Flint cut into his thoughts. “Are we good? Because I need to go. Schneider wants a lunch meeting.”

“I thought we were—”

That was disappointing. So disappointing, Zach didn’t want to examine his reaction too closely. He amended briskly, “Okay. I’m going to try to see Rusty Jordan.”

“Jordan? I thought we’d ruled him out. He has an alibi.”

“We did. Kind of. And he does. Kind of. But he could have hired someone to kill Alton.”

Flint considered, said, “That’s true. And it doesn’t hurt to remember, so could Ben.”

Rusty Jordan’s administrative assistant was a sleek blue-eyed blonde who looked a lot like a Barbie doll knock-off.

But then that was the Old Timey Fun Ltd. business model: cheap, mass-produced replicas of expensive, high-end toys and games. Whatever their public mission statement might be, it was pretty clear the underlying corporate philosophy was something likethe more they break, the more they buy.

Zach had not phoned ahead to try and set up an interview with Jordan. He’d been pretty sure any such request would be denied. Instead, he’d opted for driving the two hours from Ensenada del Sello to Jordan’s manufacturing plant and administrative offices in downtown Oakland. His hope was that if he showed up, live and in person, Jordan might think Zach had information on the investigation into Alton’s death. He was bound to be curious.

While he had not yet been granted an audience, he hadn’t been turned away, either. He’d spent the last hour sitting in a large, empty waiting room, watching the Barbie doll receptionist guard the gates of the citadel with ruthless efficiency.

Ruthless efficiency seemed to be the rule. Old Timey Fun Ltd. was located in a large, unprepossessing building seemingly made out of gray cinderblocks and crushed Christmas wishes. There were a lot of security guards and very few windows.

As a matter of fact, Jordan was meeting with his head of security that very minute. Hopefully, that was a coincidence and nothing to do with Zach showing up without an appointment. In fairness, corporate espionage and counterfeiting were a major problem in the toy industry. That was something Zach had learned from Alton.

Alton’s view of “competitors” like his old school chum Rusty, seemed mostly dismissive. Rightly or wrongly, Alton believed Old Timey Fun did not pose any real competition, that the beautifully crafted toys and games his company produced couldn’t truly be replicated through short cuts and cheap materials. And maybe he was right.

Sitting in that chilly waiting room gave Zach plenty of time to think. It was hard to see what motive Rusty Jordan might have in wanting Alton out of the way. Yes, they were both in the toy business, but it seemed more and more likely Alton’s assessment had been right. Old Timey Fun and the Beacher Toy Company were pursuing different market shares.

But the weird threats had come via Old Timey Fun products. And Rusty had accosted Alton at the Inn at Spanish Bay. More, he had seemed incensed on Zora’s behalf. So maybe there was a non-business-related angle there? Rusty had been the only name Alton seemed able to come up with when pressed for possible suspects.

True, Alton hadn’t seriously considered Rusty a threat, but surely, he’d had some reason—maybe subconscious?—for offering his name up.

The door to Jordan’s office opened and a tall, thin man in a black uniform with lots of made-up braid and insignia—much like the costume a toy security guard (or storm trooper) would wear—stepped out.

Barbie nodded to the man in uniform. The man nodded curtly to her. He threw Zach a measuring look and clearly dismissed him as a possible threat. He left the office.

Barbie went back to clicking away on her desktop.

After another ten minutes, the intercom on Barbie’s desk buzzed. She clicked, listened to the voice in her headset, and said to Zach, “Mr. Jordan will see you now.”