“I suppose not.” She pursed her lips. “He was murdered then. Just like Spanky.”
The coffee maker beeped. I filled two mugs and handed one to Paloma. We sipped and contemplated the fate of the two clowns, until a knock rattled the RV door. I opened it to find two men in dark suits and sunglasses. Both looked to be twelve. Either they were rookie detectives or late trick-or-treaters dressed up as the Men in Black.
The one on my left held up his credentials. “Detective Bronson,” he said. “And this is Officer Walker.”
“Buster,” I said. Paloma moved in behind me, and I tilted my head toward her. “Paloma.”
Bronson looked me up and down, settling his gaze on my nose. “You always dress this way?”
“Show today,” I said. “I get ready early, in case any kiddos come onsite. Kind of like Santa. Don
