“Finished recording your memoirs, Casanova? My Day with Mandy, the Hooker?” “If I could handle Mandy and you in one day, I’d send my parts off to be bronzed.” Chico tossed the necklace onto the bed. “The diamonds are real. The jeweler downstairs verified it. He said they’re not high quality, but they’re real.” “Good work,” Trace said. “We’re having dinner with my mother in twenty minutes,” Chico said as she sat down and crisply opened a small notebook. “You need a notebook now to keep track of our dinner dates?” he asked. “The notebook’s for detective work, stupid. Doesn’t it look official? Just be quiet and listen. Collins used to go to the Fontana ten or twelve times a year.” “By himself?” “Usually. Or with a boom-boom girl. Never his wife.” “High-roller?” Trace asked. “A lowlife. Credit line for two or three thousand. He’d try to nickel and dime the casino with small bets, then he’d complain because everything wasn’t complimentary.
