“You think maybe I could get on with this? I’m on the clock here.”
“Just trying to clarify the situation.”
“Anyway, the family ordered an autopsy of your guy.”
Amos said, “We’re talking about the late great Dino Vicenza.”
“Right. Apparently the family specifically instructed the docs to check for any sign of, you know, foul play. Overdose, wrong meds, the works.”
Noah watched her tense up. Heard her say, “There’s nothing to find.”
“Steady, now,” Amos said. “That’s not why we’re here.”
“These days, a full work-up requires fingerprinting and DNA,” Zia said. “Turns out, your patient isn’t who he claimed to be.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Until the early sixties,” Zia said, “One Dino Vicenza was known as Benny Watts.”
Jenna took a step back. “I don’t understand.”
Amos said, “Apparently your former patient was an Italian by way of the Israeli clan.”
Zia went on. “Benny Watts was an accountant out of Chicago. One day he ups and vanishes.”
This time, it was Noah who said, “What does this have to do with us?”
Frowning was apparently Zia’s way of handling discomfort. “We’re not exactly clear on that point.”
“Apparently the FBI received an automatic red-flag alert on your man’s fingerprints,” Amos said. “So they’re still coming to terms with how this guy has just popped onto their radar after having disappeared years back. Then three minutes later . . .”
“It was longer than that,” Zia said.
“All right. Ten. While they’re trying to figure out exactly what’s going on, they get a hit on their system, a certain San Lu cop asking questions about a man they assumed had been dead for decades.” Amos crossed his arms. Gave Zia a hard stare. “Man just couldn’t let the thing go.”
Zia kicked at a rock lodged deep in the earth by his feet. “I asked a buddy on the Santa Barbara force to keep me apprised. How was I to know—”
“A rich dude like that, fake identity his family apparently had no idea was even there, you go and ask questions.” Amos shook his head. “You beat all.”
“Whatever. Thing is, a federal agent is on his way here. He wants to have a word.”
Jenna protested, “I don’t know anything.”
“That’s never stopped the feds,” Zia replied.
“Agent Wright Manley Banks,” Amos said. “Just about the whitest name I’ve ever come across.”
Zia pointed to a dust cloud approaching from the valley’s entry. “Here comes trouble.”
CHAPTER20
Agent Wright Manley Banks was combat lean, a body so lacking in fat his shirt and suit trousers lumped around the muscles of his shoulders, the corded neck, the bony hips. His cheeks were shadowed by a beard that needed a midafternoon shave. He handed Jenna a business card while holding out his leather ID case for her inspection. Banks frowned when Amos and Zia both insisted on checking his creds. “I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding the late Benjamin Watts.”
“If you’re talking about who I think you are, I’d prefer to call him Dino. It’s the only name I ever knew him by. I guess his family must have told you the same thing. This earlier name comes as a total shock.”
Banks turned to where Zia and Amos and Noah hovered. “I’d like to have a private word with Ms. Greaves.”
“See, now, that’s fine,” Amos replied. “Long as privacy is what Ms. Greaves herself wants.”
