Narrator/point-of-view: third person, detached. Like 40s detective noir or some awful late 90s independent cinema. I’m involved but not central, hardly pivotal.
Nate (from Six Feed Under) has moved on to some private detective’s agency on the coast of Florida. He’s investigating some shady real estate deals there. Something is seriously wrong; all of the dogs that live along the beach have disappeared. Everyone in the community suspects that the new hotel baron in town is somehow responsible. It is so difficult to gather the evidence though. It all revolves around those dogs, those missing dogs. He’s trying to enlist Frederico (who has also moved into the private dick business) for help on this case.
I get all of this second hand over lunch. Rico is raging over the whole deal. He’s struck out on his own now; this has nothing to do with him. Over roast beef sandwiches, he confides that he’s sure it was that dyke the real estate baron, as well. He’s got some good evidence against her but he’s certainly not going to be sharing that information with Nate. He wants the credit on this case.