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“What on God’s green earth is that?” Will’s tone was a mixture of incredulity and mild horror.

“It’s a dog, Will.” Julia was still holding Lorre as they walked back into the office, and Will hadn’t failed to notice the newest member of the group. He was, after all, a trained professional.

“Are you sure?” Will’s eyebrows were essentially in his hairline. “I mean,” he added, judiciously, “it looks broadly like a dog but specifically like nothing on earth. Like a dog that someone made after hearing about dogs but never seeing one. Like out of spare parts. Like a child’s interpretation of dogness.”

“Wow,” said Mason, “that’s a lot of judgment.”

“It’s a lot of dog. Where did you find him?”

“He was Jack Simon’s dog.” Mason sat down heavily on the orange sofa and got up again almost immediately to go back to the kitchen to look for food. “We stole him from the crime scene.”

Will opened his mouth, but Julia interrupted. “Not actually, Mason. The crime scene was a sand trap. We rescued him”—heavy emphasis—“from the street outside, where he was being pursued by The Man.”

“A man?” Will was gamely trying to follow.

“No, The Man, you know, the establishment, the powers that be, the Law.”

“He was on the run from the law? What had he done?”

Mason was nearly at the door when Claudia opened it carrying an even larger tray than usual. She was of the opinion that if she hadn’t seen her people eat, they hadn’t eaten, and were at death’s door. She saw the dog, didn’t flicker, put down the tray and went out again without comment.

Mason sat down again and reached for a fresh donut. “He hadn’t done anything; he was just trying to live free. And to be fair, he has no owner, seeing as his owner is dead, so we weren’t even stealing. We were rehoming.”

Julia put Lorre down, and he immediately proved his intelligence by running over to Will, balancing on his back legs and bowing. Then, when Will didn’t immediately capitulate to his charm, he hopped around in a circle, still on two legs. Will narrowed his eyes. Lorre was presumably about to start juggling oranges when Claudia came back in, with one bowl of cooked chicken and another of water. She clicked her tongue and Lorre shot over. He sat there, his head cocked, as she put the bowls down, then waited, watching Claudia’s face intently. Claudia made a “go ahead” kind of noise, and he fell on it. Claudia was pleased.

“See, that’s what I like, excellent manners and a good appetite. My new favorite.”

Will was actually ready to explain one of the mysteries of the trip. “While you were there I looked up Mr. Simon’s finances. He was a very comfortable man, not from the movies, but from an investment he made in a tiny computer company back in the early ’80s. Apple went public at twenty-two dollars a share, somewhat lower than today.” He coughed. “He also received the monthly payment from Repercussion, nothing extravagant, but consistent.”

“Since when?” Julia was frowning again.

“1982.”

“The year after The Codex .” Julia looked at her feet for a moment, thinking back. “We need to work out what that was about. He never did any more work for the studio, and I’d always assumed David Paul had prevented it. Maybe Tony paid him off instead.”

Will had more. “So, the amount changed over time, which was interesting of course.”

“Of course,” said Julia, dryly.

“So, I got a hunch, and checked it. Basically, he’d been receiving a payment equivalent to ten days’ work at scale each month. As scale went up, the payments went up.”

Julia laughed. “Sounds like Tony to me. It’s the kind of kooky agreement that would appeal to him. Jack was able to work at other studios, so it wasn’t like he was blackballed completely, and this way Tony could make it clear he would hire him if his other actor wasn’t such a dick.”

Mason was confused. “What’s scale?”

“Minimum guaranteed wage for union actors.”

“But why didn’t he just wait till David Paul was over it, and then start hiring him again?”

Will nodded. “Right? But it turns out that Jack Simon lost interest in acting, once the guest spots in Columbo dried up. He moved to Palm Springs and lived a basically simple life. Simple in the sense of uniform, rather than uncomplicated.”

Julia smiled. “What stories you could tell, huh, Lorre?” He wagged his tail, hearing his name, and gazed up at her with an expression of deep and liquid love. He’d been happy for a long time, then his man went away and he was sad and hungry for a week, and now he was happy and full again. It reaffirmed his faith in the universe, and he was grateful.

“I still don’t get it,” Mason persisted. She turned to Julia. “Is there anything about it in the letters we found?”

“I haven’t read them all, but not so far.”

“Why keep paying him so long? It can’t have been blackmail; they were friends. Right?”

Will nodded. “Yes, plus it would be the mellowest blackmail scheme I’ve ever heard of: Pay me a small but slowly increasing amount for decades, I’ll move to another town and never come near you again.” He sighed. “I’ll keep digging, but it would have been much easier if Jack Simon were alive to ask.”

“Which brings us to the other big question, which is whether or not he killed himself. Mason?” Julia looked over at her assistant, who was working on another donut. “You eat like a teenage boy.”

“I have the metabolism of a teenage boy, too,” Mason replied, licking her fingers. “Maybe I spend my free time masturbating and playing video games.”

“Regardless of that horrible image, do you think Jack Simon killed himself or not?”

“Not.” Mason’s tone was firm. “We spoke to nearly a dozen of his friends, and they were unanimous. There was no reason for him to do so. He was happy as a clam.”

“Was the gun his?” Will asked.

Mason nodded. “Yes, registered to him and used, according to three of his current girlfriends, for shooting rattlesnakes. He was worried about his dog.”

“Are they a common problem?” asked Julia, looking at Will.

Will obliged. “Rattlesnakes are native to the Coachella Valley, and the general Palm Springs, Palm Desert area. The Southern Pacific rattlesnake is the most common, obviously, but red and western diamondbacks can be found, along with the sidewinder, the southwestern speckled, and even the Mojave green rattlesnake.” There was the usual respectful pause, then he opened his mouth to continue. “Of course, the bites are rarely fatal to humans, if prompt medical attention is sought, but to a small dog it would be certain and painful death. To be fair, scorpions are a great deal more common, and to a dog of this size, a scorpion bite could easily be fatal. But the best weapon against a scorpion is a stout pair of boots.” He blushed. “For a human, that is; the dog might have trouble with boots.” He hesitated. “And he would need two pairs.”

Mason turned to Julia. “It’s not even so much that he knows all this stuff, it’s that he sounds like an encyclopedia entry when he says it.”

Julia nodded. “He can’t help it. He learns it as he reads it.” She added. “Thank you as ever, Will, for knowing the answers to everything. Ignore her—she’s just jealous.”

“True story,” said Mason. “What else have you found out?”

“Uh, on the night of Tony’s murder, Jason Reed was indeed at a movie premiere, and Helen Eckenridge was volunteering at the animal shelter, so that really only leaves Cody, Christine and Jade, who spent the early part of the evening at the hospital. And Cody presumably didn’t attack himself, although that’s a clever way to offset suspicion. Plus whoever else we haven’t thought of yet. What about Maggie Galliano?”

“They seemed to still be very close. Why would she kill him?” Mason wasn’t convinced. “And, no offense, but Jade doesn’t seem like a killer to me.”

“Stupid people kill other people all the time, Mason.”

“True.” Mason turned to Ben. “Speaking of which, do you know where Becky is?”

Julia answered for him. “No, nobody knows where she is but me, and you need to stop being so judgmental. Becky’s actually a smart cookie, she’s safe, and that’s all you need to know. The fewer people who know where she is, the safer she is.”

Mason was still looking at Ben. “Does your grandmother know she’s gone? What if she calls some of her fellow witches and casts a finding spell or something?”

Ben shook his head. “She doesn’t know yet. I spoke to her yesterday and told her Becky was with her lawyer.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if she’s reached out to the local coven yet. I’m trying to persuade her to just go home and wait, but she’s not going for it yet.” He laughed. “I talked to Becky the night Grandma arrived, and she was losing her mind. She thinks Grandma had something to do with Sam’s death.”

“Why is that such a crazy notion? Your grandma isn’t exactly overflowing with the milk of human kindness.”

“True, but she’s not a murderer. She wasn’t even in Los Angeles.”

The door to the office opened and Archie walked in. There was only a little bit of room left on the sofa, so Mason promptly stood and indicated Archie should take her seat. There was an awkward little medley of hand gestures, which everyone watched with interest. Mason opened with a simple upturned palm, “go ahead, take the spot” gesture. Archie countered with a double palms up, headshake combination move. Mason followed up with a contracted eyebrow, slightly firmer open palm gesture, which Archie met and trumped with a definite frown plus closed eyes and one palm up, shaken, which several in the crowd felt was throwing in his cards too early. Mason sidestepped and simply pointed, with emphasis, a ballsy show of force that could have backfired, had Archie not suddenly realized everyone was watching them, got embarrassed and sat. Mason, trying not to gloat, folded up like origami and sat on the floor.

There was a short silence.

Then Julia said, “Well, now that the whole team is here, and Archie and Mason have performed their strange little courtship dance, maybe we can recap where we are.” She turned to Will. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” said Will. “I’ve made a PowerPoint.”

“Of course you have,” replied Julia. “And we love you for it. The floor is yours.”