Page 48 of The Perfect People

“I could throw out some options for parties,” she said, “but the truth is, my intel would have been better about four years ago when I was just a civilian with a red Solo cup looking for a good time. Now that I’m a cop, people don’t share as much as they used to. I wouldn’t trust that anything I give you is the latest, greatest information.”

“Well, we’re running out of options here,” Jessie said. “We don’t have a suspect and afternoon’s about to turn into evening. We need to know where this guy might go. If you don’t have a solid guess as to where he might be headed, do you at least have a suggestion for who might?”

At that question, Shaw’s face lit up.

“I might actually,” she said. “There’s a guy who’s always in the know. The problem is getting him to open up.”

“Why?” Jessie asked.

“Well, he’s kind of a local legend—” Shaw started to say.

“It seems like everyone around here is a local legend,” Susannah interrupted, still mostly undressed.

“She was about to give us a lead,” Jessie chided. “Are you going to let the woman talk or not?”

“Go ahead,” Susannah muttered apologetically.

“Anyway,” Shaw said, pleased to have the upper hand for once, “his name is Curly Duff. These days he likes to give the impression of being this burnout beachcomber. He spends half his days wandering the sand looking for trinkets that might be treasures. The other half of the day he hangs out in local bars, talking about nothing to all the other layabouts and slackers.”

“So why exactly is he a local legend?” Jessie asked.

“Because he’s not as chill as he seems. He used to rob houses back in the day, right here in Manhattan Beach,” Shaw explained. “He even stole some expensive art, which was never recovered. He had a whole crew and everything. But some of the robberies got violent. Eventually he got busted. On one job, the homeowner tried to fight back and a guy in his crew started beating the poor man in the head with a fireplace poker. Curly told him to stop but the guy wouldn’t so Curly shot him dead. The rest of the crew scattered but Curly stayed behind to help the homeowner. The cops arrived. Curly was left holding the bag for the robbery, the homeowner’s assault, and the death of his crew member. He ended up serving nine years of a twenty-year sentence. When he got out, he went into the home security business. The homeowner he saved was his first client. He ended up making millions. Then he retired and just started bumming around.”

“That is a fascinating story,” Susannah said, “but how does it help us?”

“Because,” Shaw said, with a gleam in her eye, “he knows everybody. He still keeps his ear to the ground on both sides of the law. He’s always on top of what’s happening. He can’t help himself. It’s in his blood. And he likes to party. He may wander the beach or sit in bars during the day, but he loves these house parties as much as everyone else, and if anyone knows which ones are the easiest to access, it’ll be him.”

“Sounds great,” Susannah said. “Where is he now?”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Shaw reminded her. “Remember how I said the problem is getting him to open up? He hates cops. We tried to turn him into an asset multiple times without success. He won’t even talk to Sergeant Breem and you’ve met him. There’s not a more chill law enforcement officer out there. If Drake Breem can’t win the guy over, no one can.”

“I don’t know,” Susannah said with a grin, “Jessie here can be a real charmer when she tries.”

“Plus, he’s volatile,” Shaw added, undeterred. “His history of robbing homes, plus his time in prison, did something to him. He seems all mellow on the surface, but I’ve seen him turn dark real quick when he’s set off. I know of at least two people who ended up battered and bloody in alleys after disagreements with him. Neither would press charges but there was no doubt who was responsible. He’s a scary guy.”

“We’ll take the cautions under advisement,” Jessie said, “but considering our ticking clock and limited options, he sounds like just the guy we need to talk to. Why don’t you show us where we can find him at this time of day?”

“Okay,” Shaw said with a shrug as she slid into her sandals and threw her backpack over her shoulder.

Jessie turned to Susannah, who was still dressed in just her bra and underwear.

“And unless you’ve decided that’s the outfit you’re wearing for the interview, maybe you could put some clothes on, Detective Valentine?”

“Hey, you never know,” Susannah replied with a smirk. “Based on what Shaw said about the guy’s bad attitude, this might be our most effective interrogation technique.”

Jessie shook her head in amazement.

“How about we start with ‘good cop, bad cop,’” she suggested, “before we move on to ‘good cop, naughty cop?’”

Jessie had to admire her partner’s bravado, even if deep down, she was starting to worry that no amount of confidence would help them get to the bottom of this case.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Curly Duff’s place was a shack.

At first, Jessie wasn’t even sure they had the right address. She had to check the map on her phone twice and text Shaw again just to make sure it wasn’t a mistake. It was hard to believe that a retired millionaire who made his money in home security lived in a broken-down cottage the size of a two-car garage.

“This is definitely it,” she said as they stepped off the Strand and dodged the dilapidated patio furniture on the tiny patio in front of his door. The glorified shed was bordered on either side by three-story houses that not only dwarfed their neighbor in the middle but seemed to actually look down on him with contempt.

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