“That very day. According to the E-Z Pass records, the car crossed the Washington Bridge back into New York within an hour of the murder. And as I said, he was killed in Fort Lee. The apartment is maybe two miles from the bridge.”

“This is crazy.”

Win said nothing.

“What's her motive?” Myron asked.

“The police don't have a solid one yet. But several are being offered.”

“Such as?”

“Esperanza was a new partner at MB SportsReps. She'd been left in charge. The company's inaugural client was about to walk out the door.”

Myron frowned. “Pretty flimsy motive.”

“He had also recently assaulted her. Perhaps Clu blamed her for all the bad things that were happening to him. Perhaps she wanted vengeance. Who knows?”

“You said something before about her not talking to you.”

“Yes.”

“So you asked Esperanza about the charges?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And she told me that she had the matter under control,” Win said. “And she told me not to contact you. That she did not wish to speak with you.”

Myron looked puzzled. “Why not?”

“I haven't a clue.”

He pictured Esperanza, the Hispanic beauty he had met in the days when she wrestled professionally under the moniker Little Pocahontas. A lifetime ago. She had been with MB SportsReps since its inception-first as a secretary and now that she'd graduated law school, as a full-fledged partner.

“But I'm her best friend,” Myron said.

“As I am well aware.”

“So why would she say something like that?”

Win guessed the question was rhetorical. He kept silent.

The island was out of sight now. In every direction there was nothing but the churning warm blue of the Atlantic.

“If I hadn't run away,” Myron began.

“Myron?”

“What?”

“You're whining again. I cannot handle whining.”

Myron nodded and leaned against the teakwood.