“No. I was with somebody.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. It was a pick-up.”
Rondler looked at me and grinned.
I didn’t say anything.
“Why did you walk out on the New Orleans cops?” Rondler asked me after a while.
“Because I had work to do.”
“What?”
“I wanted to find Roberta Fenn.”
“Why?”