He and Nick had been working out together for years at this point, and neither paid much attention to his partner's activities other than to make sure he was safe. Nick tended to do longer runs at a slower pace while Cody did sprints. Nick used heavier weights with fewer reps while Cody did the opposite. When they worked out together, it generally only meant in the same geographic location.

Reed and Olatidoye had scheduled Cody and Nick in a practice match against a duo from Mexico. The two organizers weren't far away as Cody got ready to serve, and he felt their observation. The Mexican team handled the serve easily, and Nick managed to dig out their return. But when Cody tried to spike, the taller of the two Mexicans went up for a block, and he and Nick were down from the start.

Unfortunately, it was pretty clear from that difficult beginning that the Mexicans were the better team. He and Nick played pretty well, but their opponents were bigger, faster, and stronger. Still, it wasn't a lopsided defeat, and Cody was pretty pleased with how they played. When they finished, they shook hands with the other team and grabbed their gear. A few other teams had been watching, checking out the competition, and Cody and Nick got a couple of handshakes as they left the court. As they walked into the tournament headquarters building, Cody caught a nod of approval from Reed as they passed his office. At least they hadn't embarrassed themselves.

In the showers, Cody kept an ear out for any gossip, but most of the chatter was about the teams that were entered, who was missing the tournament, and who was playing well or poorly right then.

Nick was waiting when Cody finished changing, and they headed back out to watch some of the other teams in their practice matches. They split up, Nick going to see Carritas and Mendez while Cody went to watch McAvoy and Patterson.

When he reached their court, Cody found Murray already there, taking notes. Boz caught his eye for half a second and then went right back to serious scribbling. Cody wasn't sure what his partner was doing, but he decided to stay out of it until Boz made clear his intentions and if he needed Cody's help. Sitting a couple rows higher, Cody watched the match and the other people on the sand, trying to see if anyone was paying undue attention to the Australian team. Unfortunately, everyone in their vicinity was watching. The Australians really were that good.

A tall, beautiful red head sat a couple yards from Murray. She was watching the match intently and frequently caught the eye of one of the men on the court. Watching their connection for a while, Cody finally figured that it must Lucien McAvoy and his wife.

Cody watched as Murray leaned toward her, "Excuse me, you seem to know what's going on; can I ask you some questions?"

She drew back, "I'm sorry?"

"I don't know very much about volleyball, and I could really use some help."

"I suppose." She caught McAvoy's eye on the sand and waved slightly for him to stay put.

"You've got an Australian accent; isn't one of these teams from Australia?"

She couldn't help but smile as she nodded at the tall man who was evidently trying to decide if he was going to play ball or charge the stands. "That's my husband, Luke McAvoy. I'm Sharon."

Cody would never admit it, but he'd always been a little jealous at Murray's particular ability with women. His geeky partner didn't even realize his own power. If he wasn't all nervous about asking her out, almost every woman he met was almost immediately at ease as she quickly realized there was nothing to fear in sweet Murray Bozinsky. And Sharon McAvoy reacted the same way as Cody saw her relax and slide a little closer to Boz.

"I'm M-M-Millard…uh, Fillmore, and I work for a newspaper in Bakersfield. My editor planned to send the sports guy down to cover this tournament, but his wife just had a baby, so here I am."

"What kind of stories do you usually write, Mr. Fillmore?"

"Please call me Millard. Or Murray. See, it's Millard Murray Fillmore. My mother always called me Murray."

She smiled, trying to keep from laughing. "Murray, it is."

"Yes. Well, uh, I'm a court reporter. Not the volleyball court or the basketball court or the tennis court. The actual, you know, court court. Like judges and juries. And lawyers and bailiffs and…"

She nodded again, biting her lips together.

"So I'm completely out of my element here."

"You don't look like you get to the beach very much."

Boz looked disconcerted, "Actually, I do spend quite a bit of time on the sand."

She looked confused, "Really? On the map of California, it appeared that Bakersfield was somewhat inland? Am I wrong?"

Cody wanted to butt in and remind Murray about the story he was spinning, but he also wanted to see how his partner would get out of the little corner he'd just painted himself in. It was kind of fun watching a scam in progress without being involved.

"What? Oh! Yes, it is, but I meant…desert sand. Bakersfield is fairly close to Death Valley and the Mohave, so we have a lot of…sand."

"Oh, I see. Yes, of course."

Cody swiped a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Murray had such a disarming, genuine way about him, that people just naturally believed even the wildest stories.

It wasn't long before Sharon McAvoy was explaining all the ins and outs of beach volleyball to Murray who was asking questions and taking careful notes, completely convincing her that he had no idea what was going on. The irony was that Murray had memorized the beach volleyball rule book not long after moving onto the Riptide, and he kept careful track of any changes. Anytime an issue came up in a game Nick and Cody were playing, Boz was generally on hand to make a ruling, and he was considered the final word in any game on the beach.

While Murray worked on getting information from Sharon McAvoy, Cody turned his attention back to the beach. On the sand, Lucien McAvoy and his partner, Ian Patterson, were easily the better team, but McAvoy was distracted. He was a little slow to react to the ball, and his shots occasionally went wide. Patterson didn't get angry or frustrated though, he just quietly encouraged his partner who only got more frustrated as the match went on.

Finally, the Australians won the match and grabbed their gear. Sharon McAvoy took Millard Murray Fillmore down to meet her husband. He initially seemed suspicious, but before long, Boz had convinced him of the clueless reporter story as well. After the couple left, Murray climbed up to sit next to Cody.

"Well?"

"She didn't mention the threat against her, but she said that Luke wasn't playing well because he was worried about some stuff at home. I'll see her again though, and maybe I can get more out of her later."

"Did you ask how he and his partner get along with the other teams? Carritas and Mendez?"

"I asked about other teams in general. I thought she might get suspicious if I asked about specific problems. But she said they all got along pretty well."

Cody glanced around the sand again, "I'd hoped that we'd be able to see anyone who looked out of place, but pretty much everybody seems like they're ready for a match. Well, everybody but you."

Murray looked a little distressed for half a second, but then he rolled his eyes and conceded the point. "Where's Nick?"

Cody stood and wiped the sand from the back of his shorts. "He went to watch Carritas and Mendez. Let's go find him."

Murray stowed his note pad, and they headed to the other courts, looking for a crowd. Instead, they found one breaking up.

Nick saw them coming and waited up in the bleachers, his elbows propped on his knees. "Hey. How'd you make out?"

Cody plopped down and leaned back against the row of seats behind them. "I don't think the Australian team has anything to fear from you and me, buddy."

Nick grinned at the understatement and nodded agreement. "Yeah, these two guys could probably have a cookout during the match and still win hands down."

Cody winced, "That good, huh?"

"'Fraid so. You know what was odd, though? Most teams talk to each other, you know, yell and stuff? Not these two. Almost completely silent on the court. Every now and then a quiet little chat between plays, but otherwise, it was just hand signals."

"That would be…weird." Cody couldn't imagine a match where he and Nick weren't talking and calling out the whole time. And in the games they usually played, there was generally a lot of teasing with the other team as well.

Nick shrugged his agreement and complete lack of understanding of the Brazilians.

Cody elbowed Nick, "Let me introduce you to Millard Murray Fillmore, ace reporter for The Bakersfield Californian."

"Millard…Fillmore. I know that name. Wasn't he…?"

Boz nodded, "The thirteenth president. It just popped out. But I figured a woman from Australia probably wouldn't have heard of a fairly unsuccessful, one-term American president from the nineteenth century."

"McAvoy's wife?"

"Yeah. She's really nice, and he seems to be, too. But they're on their guard, and I didn't get very much."

Cody squeezed his shoulder, "You did pretty good, though." Cody glanced around the sand, completely devoid of any suspicious people. "You know what I'm thinking, Nick?"

"Yeah."

When Nick didn't say anything else, Cody and Boz turned as one to stare at their partner. "You do?"

"Yeah."

Cody met Murray's eyes for a split second, and Boz took the lead. "What's Cody thinking, Nick?"

Nick smirked, "That we should go see Jimmy Wu."

Cody slumped and rolled his eyes. He nodded at Murray's questioning glance. Nick breathed a laugh.

Murray grinned, "I'd hate for you guys to try to hide anything from each other. You think alike." He paused, "I should have thought of Jimmy Wu. He's the biggest bookie on the beach. Of course he'd be taking bets on this tournament."

Cody nodded, "If he finds out someone's trying to rig the outcome, he might tell us who's laid down the most money. Who has the most to lose and gain."

Nick scratched his neck absently, "Tricky part's gonna be convincing him to stay out of it and let us figure out who's trying to rig the odds."

"Yeah."

Jimmy Wu worked out of the back of a video store in Torrance. Cody followed Nick to the rear door and waited.

A very large sumo type answered their knock, "Yeah?"

Nick looked up—way up, "We need to see the man."

"'Bout what?"

"The volleyball tournament."

Sumo eyed them both then grudgingly allowed them inside. A few desks were occupied by neatly dressed young Asian men and one young woman, all scouring various newspapers and sports magazines, working calculators, checking lists and tables, taking constant phone calls, and making notes. On the wall were a dozen televisions, tuned to different sports and games. In the very back was a small, thin, middle-aged man, Jimmy Wu. Nick and Cody threaded their way through the office to his desk and waited.

After a minute, the man glanced up from his paperwork for half a second then went right back to it. "Yes?"

Nick eyed Cody and stepped back slightly.

Cody cleared his throat, "Mr. Wu? I'm Cody Allen, and this is my partner, Nick Ryder. We're—"

"I know who you are."

"…You do?"

"You're private heat from King Harbor, right?"

Cody glanced at Nick in surprise, "Yeah. How did…?"

"In my business, it pays to be well informed."

"But we're not in your business."

"Nevertheless, I keep track of current events. I've seen you in the paper several times."

Nick looked dumfounded, and Cody would admit he was stunned. To his knowledge, they'd never crossed paths with the man professionally. But anyway…"Okay. Well. We were hoping you might help us out with an investigation."

Wu finally put down his pen and sat back to look at them. "I'm interested in why you believe I might be of assistance."

Cody glanced at Nick to double check before proceeding. "We think someone is trying to rig the King Harbor Beach Volleyball Tournament."

Wu's eyes narrowed slightly, "How?"

"By threatening some of the top teams to get them to drop out."

"That could be…disruptive."

Nick spoke up, "We were hired by the organizers to find out who's behind it."

Wu shifted his attention to Nick, "And you thought I might be able to give you some ideas about who would benefit from an altered outcome."

Cody nodded, "Seemed logical."

"Why would I help you when I can use that information myself?"

Cody spread his hands, "If my partners and I find the people responsible for the threats, we'll keep you out of it. You stay clean. Off the cops' radar."

"But it would not help my business if these individuals think I'm ignorant of their activities. Others might attempt the same plan."

"I'm sure others have already attempted that in the past and probably will again. And I'm also sure you could find a way to let it be known that you had a hand in the apprehension of the perpetrators. A man of your abilities and range could certainly ensure that such a message is received."

Wu appeared to consider this. "It could also be that an outside party is responsible for these threats. Perhaps someone from out of town has made a significant wager on the outcome. I'm not the only agent for such a transaction."

Cody smiled genially, "I'm sure you have contacts and could find out. Other people in your line of work would also have a vested interest in protecting the results of this tournament. You could persuade your fellow agents, I'm sure."

Wu studied Cody, then Nick for a moment. Then he nodded and reached to shake hands. "If you didn't have a reputation for doing your job well, I would not agree to help you. Let me make some calls. Come back tomorrow morning, and I'll have your information."

Cody started to nod, but Nick interrupted, "We've already got something in the morning. Can our other partner come instead?"

"Bozinsky, right? Of course. Tell him I look forward to meeting him."

They thanked him and slid past Sumo, still on guard at the door. Once they got back in the Jimmy, Nick stared at the building. "That was…not what I expected."

Cody nodded, "It was like an insurance office. With sports."

"Just business, I guess."

"Yeah."

Nick shrugged as Cody started the truck.