Tucson police detective Sarah Burke is called in to investigate a horrific double murder in a high-dollar neighbourhood.  The tragic destiny of a rich and troubled family unfolds against the backdrop of the imploding construction industry and the politics of downtown construction.
    Meanwhile Sarah's household bulges at the seams, as her niece, her mother and boyfriend — vivid personalities all — search for accommodation in her small spaces and crowded schedule, and her sister, as usual, does nothing to make things easier...

First Chapter - New River Blues:

The party was big and very noisy at first, two or three groups that didn't mix very well and laughed at everything so they'd know they were having fun.  The neighbors huddled in one room, taking careful sips of tall drinks and comparing insurance plans, while a bigger, louder crowd of theater people milled around them, sharing inside jokes and grabbing refreshments with both hands.  A third group, young, clustered in the dining room drinking long-neck beers and wine coolers out of an ice-tub in the bay window.  They all talked at once to a beautiful blond girl who evidently lived here.  When the rooms were full of laughing, swilling people the blonde, at a signal from the hostess, took her place under a chandelier hung with balloons and began to open her birthday presents.  She showed each gift around, hugged the donor and declared each item to be something she'd always wanted. 

  Several older guests offered toasts praising her beauty and wit, and a window-rattling cheer went up from the kids when she blew out eighteen candles.  Then the birthday girl and her friends ate a lot of cake very fast, kissed the hostess and went out the door in a babbling rush into a red November sunset. 

  Once the kids' refreshments were cleared away, the drink trays emptied faster and the party warmed up.  A hint of high-grade cannabis began to drift through the elegant rooms.  The groups that had clung together since they arrived began to break up and drift too, as if the laws of gravity were being gradually repealed.  Intense new friendships formed around a sentence or even a glance. 

  The hostess kept an eye on her guests, joining the singers around the piano for a chorus, making sure the men talking politics in the study had plenty to drink.  The high-energy theater people who were clustered around the crinkly-smiling man on the stairway didn't need much looking after-they stayed hilarious on their own. 

  Pauly had only been working parties for a month but already he was a fair judge of what made one fly.  This event had plenty of booze and pot, an unusual mix of people in luxurious surroundings and a voluptuous, beaming hostess in the most beautiful beaded green dress he'd ever seen.  He thought it was the best party he'd worked yet, probably good for some decent tips and maybe a couple of hours' overtime. 

  Felicity had found the job for them.  She was a waifish actress, too skinny for his taste before he went to Yuma but plenty hot for the sex-starved ex-con he was now.  Not that she'd give him the time of day.  She had long auburn hair and big eyes that would probably be lovely when her shiners healed up.  Right now she was using a lot of make-up to cover her mysterious eye bruises, which along with her oddly swollen nose made her look like a raccoon that had tangled with a trap. 

  On stage, she covered up her injuries with even more makeup and cagey acting tricks.  Felicity was a pro at the regional theater where many of the people at this party were sponsors and board members.  Has-been Hollywood stars or TV actors whose series got cancelled would jet into Tucson to pick up some sunshine and easy applause in old Broadway shows — Brigadoon, The Sound of Music — and locals, sometimes some of the board members, got their grins taking supporting roles.  Felicity and one underfed fag understudied all the parts and covered emergencies.  Pauly and Nino, this season's staff, moved props and kept the theater clean. 

  From the theater they had followed Felicity's lead into this part-time job with the catering company that booked parties out of the Spotted Pony, the actors' favorite bar.  Not a great job but it beat Dumpster diving and sleeping under bridges, which was what they'd been down to for a while after they got to town. 

  Pauly and Nino had drifted together in the yard at Yuma during "exercise," the time when they stood in corners smoking, saying fuck this and fuck that, bunched for safety with Petey and a couple of other short-timers.  Bored drop-outs from high schools in small Arizona towns, they'd all made their grab for easy money in the drug trade and been busted almost at once by lawmen who treated them like pathetic jokes.  Seething with a toxic mix of resentment and fear after prison had shown them they were not as tough as they thought, they cursed "the system," worked half-heartedly on GEDs, and tried to stay out of fights and love affairs while they ran out the clock on their sentences. 

  Then Petey got jumped in the laundry one day, went in the infirmary and didn't come out.  In the yard that afternoon Pauly kicked the wall.  "Fucking guards don't do nothing but supervise the killing, what the fuck?"

    Nino pushed him into a corner and stood in front of him muttering, "Shut up," because one of the yard pigs was looking.  When Pauly calmed down he admitted Nino had saved his ass, and before lights out he'd agreed that job one, from now on, was staying alive till tomorrow. 

  It wasn't much of a plan but it became one.  They watched each other's back, thought ahead a little for the first time in their lives.  And they began to talk every day about what they wanted to do when they got out. 

  Most of Pauly's ideas centered on food and sex.  Before his arrest he had accepted his limited success with Benson girls because he had nothing to offer but himself and there were plenty of unemployed no-talent yo-yos around.  But cut off from society as he was now, he began to fantasize about bedding girls of all shapes and sizes.  He wanted to try sex with several girls at once, he told Nino, and then find one slavish female who would cook great meals and put out whenever he wanted it.  He masturbated endlessly to one particularly vivid dream of mounting her as she bent to look in the oven. 

  Nino could read without moving his lips and was open to dreams of the wider world.  "I'm ashamed," he said one day, "that I settled for such stupid little crap when there's so much on the outside to choose from. " He had been studying the pictures in dog-eared copies of Playboy and Hustler the staff left around.  He pointed to ads for big cars, good clothes and glossy living rooms, saying, "See? This is what we should be aiming for. "

"Oh, sure," Pauly said.  "Just snap my fingers, I can have that stuff anytime." 

  "You can if you get in with the right people," Nino said.  He tilted his head to one side and studied Pauly.  "You know, you'd clean up pretty nice.  You oughta think about that." 

  "Hell you talking about? I ain't no whore. "

  "Didn't say you was.  Were.  But you want to move up, you gotta consider how to get people to like you.  You're a good-looking guy.  Learn how to dress and talk, it could change your life. " Pauly stood with his mouth open, not knowing how to respond to the unexpected compliment, till Nino came up on his blind side with, "Think about it hard enough, you could probably even get yourself to quit saying ain't." 

  Pauly said, "Aw, shee-it. " and turned his back.  But he didn't stay mad, he never stayed mad at Nino because Nino was all he had in here and a better friend, come right down to it, than any he'd ever made on the outside.  Pauly had seen movies where men at war formed a kind of brotherhood, and he thought that was how it was working for him and Nino in prison. 

  For the rest of their time in Yuma they talked about how they would "make it" on the outside.  Pauly had always been near flunking out of school and had terrible handwriting, but he was big and strong and as Nino said he cleaned up well.  Nino was a skinny little runt but he was canny.  If they stuck together, they decided, they could work something out. 

  "Oh, I got it now," Nino said one day, grinning in the yard.  "What we need to do, we need to augment our skill sets. "

Pauly said, "Say wha'?"

  "Just learned that this morning from that fat counselor with the nose ring. " He crooked his pinkie.  "Ain't it just too, too dee-vine?" Nino was so pleased with himself he forgot about not saying ain't. 

  They progressed like that, two steps forward and one back, while the relentless sun rolled east to west over their sandy patch of prison yard.  Nino turned into a regular suck-up with the counselors as parole time approached, trying to insure they got everything they were entitled to when they got released.  Which wasn't much—a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt apiece, and a couple of maps Nino begged off one of the guards.  Pauly reclaimed his driver's license, his social security card and the little earring with the dangle he had been afraid to wear in here. 

  The last thing he put on was his grandfather's turquoise ring.  It had one stone missing, but his mother had given it to him for his thirteenth birthday, saying he could get a ruby put in there when his ship came in.  He'd kept it because it made him feel like he had a goal. 

  Between the two of them they'd saved just about enough for bus tickets home—the last place, they agreed, that either one of them wanted to go.  They pooled their money and bought tickets to Tucson. 

  The question of skill sets came up again as the bus lumbered past the saguaros on the east side of Yuma.  Pauly had grudgingly done a little haying and fence-building for his stepfather, on a ranch south of Benson, before he dropped out of school and ran away.  He had just enough ranching experience to know it wasn't for him, and the old man must have agreed because he never came looking for him.  He'd washed dishes in a café in town for a few weeks, until he made new friends and learned how to buy and process crack cocaine.  He wasn't tempted to try being a drug lord in Benson again, but he thought he might give food service another shot. 

  In Tucson, they talked to a guy hawking newspapers at a stoplight, found a homeless shelter, got a meal and a free shower.  They split up the next morning to look for openings for ex-felons. 

  Most people didn't want them around at all, Pauly quickly learned, but he used his mother's way of saying "yes, Ma'am," and "please," to persuade an assistant manager at a fast-food stand to give him a trial.  Passing out curly fries and cokes was no fun, but he needed the food and the little bit of money that came with the stupid shirt and hat. 

  He was able to smuggle out burgers and slaw enough to keep Nino alive, too.  Nino didn't get a job right away because, he told Pauly, he was cruising, looking for an edge. 

  In Yuma, Nino had seemed like the natural leader of the two, but on the outside Pauly began to see that Nino had something in his face, a sneaky, feral look around the mouth and eyes, that put people off.  Small business types looking to hire hamburger flippers or help with yard work looked into Nino's face and said they'd just filled their last opening.  Pauly, on the other hand, given a fresh shave and a clean shirt, projected the kind of clueless muscle that could get him a dead-end job anywhere in half an hour. 

  Pauly didn't mind being the worker bee, supporting them both for a while.  It pleased him that Nino needed him for a change — friendship should be a two-way street, he thought.  And when they met after work Nino brought back good stories, never two days the same.  He was drawn to big talkers, tricky types like himself who were always on the prowl, looking for an angle.  Sometimes Pauly wondered why they got along so well — everybody else Nino hooked up with seemed to be looking for a soft spot.  Or was already in one, like the crinkly-smiling man at this party, sitting on the stairs surrounded by young dancers and actors. 

  Madge, they all called him—Madge baby.  He seemed to be kind of a groupie at the theater, had cute nicknames for all the actors.  He never acted or directed but he knew all the plays, had wise humorous things to say when people blew their lines or lashed out about not getting a part they wanted.  Madge was a patron, Felicity said.  He helped people out in small ways, gave lifts around town and was a big hugger. 

  Nino and Madge told varying humorous stories about how they met.  "I spotted him copping a feel in the Spotted Pony," Nino usually said, "and I knew right away he was my kind of a guy. " Or Madge would say, "All the waitresses assured me he was not to be trusted, so I asked them to introduce us. "

  Pauly couldn't tell if they were a little more than friends.  He knew Nino would swing either way — whatever floated the boat was Nino's motto — but he couldn't tell for sure if Madge was a fag.  The girl's name seemed to suit him, but he made a big fuss over women, too, usually had his arms around a girl or two. 

  For whatever reason, he got Nino and Pauly these half-assed jobs as prop guys at the theater, with a room above the stage as part of the deal.  Then he and Felicity recommended them to this caterer for part-time jobs, because the theater paid so little, and to get them started Felicity found black pants and white shirts at Good Will.  It was all done with a lot of pats and hugs, which Nino said probably wouldn't do any permanent damage if they didn't inhale. 

  The bossy caterer named Zack let them into the pantry, prep room, whatever these rich people called the great clean space with all the cupboards and coolers behind their shiny kitchen crowded with killer appliances.  Leading them under steel overhead racks where shining pots and spoons hung down like icicles, Zack said, "Your jackets are here, these aprons fasten in back, remember? Why are you standing there, you have worked parties for me before, right?"

  Nino gave him the ice-cold look out of his colorless eyes and said, "Sure, Zack," and you could see Zack go Whoa, are you going to give me trouble? But guests were already arriving in the room on the other side of the kitchen, squealing and doing kissy-kissy with the hostess, so Zack had to launch right into his tray lecture.  Pour the wine this full in these glasses, remember, a dozen only on this size tray.  And the canapés go on these trays with clean doilies every single time…after that it was just a blur, for hours.  A big party, rooms full of people, Zack humping to keep up in the prep room while Pauly, Nino and Felicity hustled the food and drink out front.  Felicity smiled and fawned on the board members who called out to her, "There's our girl, how's my Baby?" the men starting to paw her after a couple of drinks.  Felicity whirled around them smiling, making little jokes, doing her cute little winks. 

  They hauled in platters and baskets of savory, high-cost food and no end of wine and vodka, just keep it coming, nobody keeping track.  As soon as they got used to the routine, Nino devised a signal system so they could take turns ducking into the help's bathroom to sample the goodies.  They ate their fill of big shrimp, marinated mushrooms, tiny egg rolls with a wonderful sauce.  Felicity taught Pauly how to say paté.  He spread that and several cheeses on wonderful buttery crackers, and washed it down with plenty of wine.  Before long, Pauly figured, he probably felt as good as any of the guests. 

  About ten o'clock the party started to wind down.  Women began to look for purses, men jingled car keys, a madly giggling group of actors surrounded the sparkly hostess and sang a hilariously obscene ballad of thanks. 

  By eleven, the front of the house was empty and the hostess was in the prep room saying, "Marvelous party, Zack, everybody had fun.  Let's have a glass of wine while we clean up!" Pouring for everybody, turning her gleaming cheeks up to be kissed by Madge who of course was the last one there.  He wrapped his arms around her, telling her she was still the best party-giver in Pima County. 

  She put a big white apron over her satiny-slidy dress and made little gestures, picked up a few glasses and poured some nuts back in a can.  Zack and Felicity kept saying No, no, don't get your dress dirty, we'll handle that.  But Pauly could see she liked being part of the crew, she wanted to stay here and share funny anecdotes about the party.  Maybe she didn't want to be alone.  Pauly began to wonder if there wasn't something sad, a touch of uncertainty behind her gleaming smile. 

  Madge found some dance music for the CD player and danced with her, chuckling, then whirled her back to the wine bottles when she said she needed another sip.  He danced away with Felicity, who moved like a ballet dancer and made any partner look like Fred Astaire. 

  The hostess — Easy, was that what they called her? Or Weezy? — he couldn't tell, if he had to call her anything he'd call her Ma'am.  She poured another big glass of wine for herself and one for Pauly, drank half of hers, treated him to one of those blissed-out smiles he'd been watching all afternoon and held out her arms saying, "Okay, let's dance. " Pauly wasn't much of a dancer but what were you supposed to do? He stepped into her arms, moving cautiously at first, hoping his hand wasn't leaving a mark on the dress.  The flesh of her round arms smelled like flowers, though, and she was enjoying herself, humming with the music, so he began to relax.  Her hips swayed under his hand and he moved closer. 

  Madge and Felicity pulled Nino and Zack out to dance, laughing, Madge whirling Nino around like a debutante.  They danced close to Pauly and his luscious green armful, Madge looking a question at Weezy but she shook her head.  When the music stopped, the hostess stood beside Pauly at the counter drinking wine.  "Mmm," she said, smiling, "good. " When the music started again they moved into each other's arms without a word. 

  He would never know how the rest of it happened.  The lights dimmed gradually, as if by magic.  The saxophones seemed to grow creamier as the laughter of the other dancers softened.  Somebody passed around a J and after that for Pauly it was all vague and beautiful, there was only the music and the silky slide of her body in his arms. 

  At the end of one long song he realized the other four people had disappeared, and a bit later he found himself halfway up the stairs kissing his green-clad hostess, who groped him and groaned with pleasure. 

  In a bedroom that looked better than any dream he'd ever had, this woman who seemed to know no limits wound her arms around his neck and whispered, "Sweetie, you need some more wine?" Her jeweled hands caressed his back and sides and found his crotch.  "No, I guess not," she chuckled, and the shiny green dress slid off like magic as they sank onto her silky sheets. 

  The first time he came in her he was sure he was going to die of pleasure.  But he didn't, and she knew exactly how to help him risk his life again. 

  The second time took longer but finally came to a great shuddering climax that left them both very tired.  They lay curled together afterwards, making soft sounds that didn't quite reach the level of speech.  Not really intending to but helpless to stop, they fell asleep. 

  Adrift in dreamless satisfaction , Pauly slept without moving until the lights went on and the world exploded.