The Gentlemen's Hour

112

Winners and losers.

Start with the potential losers, Boone tells himself as he walks over to The Sundowner. Potential losers are more likely to kill out of desperation than potential winners are for profit. People tend to dread their losses more than they hope for their wins.

So list the losers.

Hefley Insurance.

Could be a big loser. What if Schering wasn’t giving them the answer they wanted, or was holding them up for more money? But, as Cheerful says, insurance companies don’t actually, physically kill people . . . do they?

Keep them on the list, but unlikely.

He walks into The Sundowner, where Not Sunny is caught off-guard by his uncharacteristically early appearance. She’s leaning against the bar, catching a standing nap, when the door opening wakes her. She sees Boone and signals the cook to get his usual going on the grill. Then she walks over and pours him a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” Boone says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Uhhhh, what’s your name?”

“Not Sunny.”

“No, I mean, what’s your real name?” Boone asks. “Not the one we glossed you with.”

The question takes her by surprise. Having been called Not Sunny during working hours for several months now, she actually has to think about it for a second. “Jennifer.”

“Thank you, Jennifer.”

“Okay,” she says. “Your usual?”

“Yeah. No,” Boone says. “It might be time to change things up a little, Not—Jennifer. I’ll have . . . the, uhhhh . . . blueberry pancakes.”

“Blueberry pancakes?” Not Sunny Jennifer asks.

“Are the blueberries fresh?”

“No.”

“I’ll take them anyway.”

“Okay.”

She goes to piss off the cook, who already has the eggs working.

Boone goes back to contemplating losers.

If Schering kept faith with Hefley’s, Boone thinks, the next possible losers would be the homeowners. So you’d have to have a homeowner with a lot of bucks to lose having an uninsured house fall into the rabbit hole, or a homeowners’ association.

Now, homeowners’ associations in SoCal are known for their brutality and utter ruthlessness in enforcing their codes, but Boone can’t quite envision one commissioning a contract murder, although he’d loved to have sat in on that meeting.

“All in favor of snuffing Phil Schering, please indicate by saying ‘aye.’ Motion carried. There’s coffee and cookies . . .”

He doesn’t even know if there is a homeowners’ association for the neighborhood, so decides that his first task after consuming the pancakes is to go down to the County Building and start researching ownership records. Come up with a list of the homeowners and try to see if any of them are likely candidates.

Not Sunny Jennifer brings him the pancakes.

And a bill.

“Will there be anything else?” she asks as if she worked hard to memorize the line.

Boone’s a little startled. As an unofficial bouncer and keeper of the peace at The Sundowner, he hasn’t received a bill for breakfast in years. Not Sunny Jennifer sees the surprised look on his face. Anxiety overwhelms her, and she gives it straight up. “Chuck said to next time you came in. Charge you. Like, you’re not family.”

“Relax. It’s cool.”

“I feel weird.”

“Don’t,” Boone says. He gets up, digs out his wallet, and leaves enough cash to pay the bill, plus a generous tip.

“Just tell Chuck for me that someone else can keep things cool around here from now on. I don’t go where I’m not invited.”

Not Sunny Jennifer frowns—it’s a lot to remember.

“Just tell him adiós,” Boone says.

“‘Adiós,’” she repeats.

Adiós.