The balding man with the bad hair looked out across the bay, the tears welling in his eyes blurring his vision and giving him the impression that the buildings on the other side of the water were swaying and dancing. He used his thumb and forefinger to wipe his eyes and then pinch the bridge of his nose - the universal sign of a man relieving stress - to cover up for the tear-wipe, but it was obvious enough. Jake took a step forward.
"Where's her body, Stan?"
"It's Stanley, not Stan."
And then he leaped into the water - suicide, escape - hard to say. Jake took a shuffle towards the edge of the pier and quickly realized he wasn't going to follow, so he hightailed it for a phone. He had his man for a second there, but the police weren't likely to believe it. A quick phone call, and then across town. There was one loose end left, and if he was quick, he might just grab it.