CHAPTER FORTY-ONEThe next morning, armed with the information Duvall had unearthed, I dropped off the scooter and caught a ride with Jamila to the nearest rental car office, where I obtained my own set of wheels. From there, I took the familiar route north, flying by the look-alike strip malls, faux palm trees, all-you-can-eat buffet signs, fake tiki huts, and bamboo fences, one after the other for blocks until I reached the north end where the towering condos fronted the beach.
I took the left onto Pine Shore Lane and spotted Conroy’s dark blue Toyota. No sign of the silver compact. Yet.
I cruised past the house, did a three-pointer, and tucked the car behind an outcropping of shrubbery at the end of the quiet street. From there, I had a clear view of the front of Conroy’s house. Fortun
