“Don’t bother about me, Fran.”

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Fran said, immediately hanging up before Molly could say no.

She’s given up, Fran thought as she impatiently pressed the button for the elevator. In that condition, she shouldn’t be left alone for even one minute.

81

It’s my fault, Philip Matthews told himself over and over again. When Molly got out of prison, I should have dragged her into the car. She didn’t know what she was doing when she talked to the media. She didn’t understand that you can’t admit to the parole board that you accept responsibility for your husband’s death, then go out and say you didn’t do it. Why didn’t I get that across to her?

The prosecutor could have asked to get her parole revoked the minute she made that statement, Philip reasoned. That means that he’s going after her now only because of the second charge.

My one chance to keep Molly out of prison when we appear before the board on Monday is to make them accept that there’s a legitimate possibility that she’s been wrongly accused of Annamarie Scalli’s death. Then I have to beg the members to understand that she didn’t actually intend to retract her admission but rather that she just wanted to regain her memory of that night so she could fully face what had happened. He thought about it. The argument might work. If he could persuade Molly to stick to that story… If, however, was the operative word.

Molly told the reporters that she had the impression there was someone else in the house the night Gary Lasch was murdered, he recalled, and she also said that in her heart, she did not believe she was capable of taking a human life. I might be able to persuade the parole board that this statement came from someone consumed with grief and despair, not from someone trying to trick them into granting parole. I could plead that it’s a matter of record that she was suffering from clinical depression in prison.

Still, all my arguments about her mental state will amount to nothing if I can’t create doubt about Annamarie Scalli’s death, he thought. It all comes down to that.

That was why, late on Saturday afternoon, Philip Matthews drove to the Sea Lamp Diner in Rowayton. The parking lot where Annamarie Scalli had died was no longer cordoned off. Badly in need of repaving and with the white lines that delineated parking spaces almost invisible, it was in use again. There was no indication that a young woman had been brutally murdered there, no hint that Molly Lasch might have to spend the rest of her life in prison because traces of blood from the dead woman had been found on her shoe and in her car.

Philip had brought in a trusted investigator to work with him on the case, and together they were beginning to shape the defense he would offer in court.

Molly said that she had seen a medium-sized sedan pulling out of the parking lot as she left the diner that night. Philip’s investigator had already established that no other customer had left the diner for at least several minutes before Annamarie ran out.

Molly said she had gone directly to her own car. She had noticed a Jeep parked in the lot when she first arrived at the diner to meet Annamarie, but she had no way of knowing that it was Annamarie’s vehicle. The investigator had concluded that Molly must have stepped in the blood that was found on her shoe, and then the blood on the shoe had left a mark on the carpet in her car.

All the evidence is circumstantial, Philip fumed as he went into the diner. The blood on her shoe is the only tangible evidence they have to connect her with the murder. If the killer was in that sedan, it meant he had been parked in the lot, because Molly saw him pull out of the lot. What must have happened, Philip concluded, was that after the killer stabbed Annamarie, he ran back to his own car, then drove away as Molly exited the diner. The murder weapon hasn’t been found. What I can argue is that a few drops of blood may have dripped from the knife onto the tarmac, and Molly stepped in it accidentally, not even noticing it.

But there’s another major problem that we can’t yet explain, Philip thought as he took one last look around the parking lot: a motive for this anonymous killer. Why would someone follow Annamarie Scalli to the diner, wait for her to leave, and kill her? Nothing in her personal life-other than her affair with Molly’s husband years ago-would indicate a motive; he’d had her thoroughly checked out. I know that Fran Simmons is pursuing some theory about the hospital that may connect to Annamarie, he thought. I can only hope she comes up with something-soon!

When Philip entered the diner, he was pleased to see that Bobby Burke was at the counter. He was also relieved to see that Gladys Fluegel wasn’t in sight. His detective had warned him that her story about Molly restraining Annamarie from leaving the diner and then rushing out after her had become increasingly more sensational every time she repeated it.

Philip took a seat at the counter. “Hi, Bobby,” he said. “How about a cup of coffee?”

“Boy, you made it quick, Mr. Matthews. I guess Ms. Simmons called you right away.”

“What are you talking about, Bobby?”

“I phoned Ms. Simmons an hour ago and left a message for her.”

“You did? What about?”

“That couple you’ve been looking for, the ones who were here Sunday night? They happened to come in for lunch today. They’re from Norwalk. Turns out they flew up to Canada Monday morning and just got home last night. Can you believe they didn’t even know what had happened? They said they’ll be glad to talk to you. Their names are Hilmer. Arthur and Jane Hilmer.”

Bobby lowered his voice. “Mr. Matthews, just between us, when I told them what Gladys told the cops, they said she was full of baloney. They said they didn’t hear Mrs. Lasch call ‘Annamarie’ twice. According to them, she called her once. And they’re sure she didn’t yell ‘Wait!’ It was Mrs. Hilmer who yelled ‘Waitress,’ trying to get Gladys’s attention.”

Over the years, Philip Matthews knew he had become cynical. People were predictable and never failed to disappoint you. At that moment, however, he felt like a child in Wonderland. “Give me the Hilmers’ number, Bobby,” he said. “This is great!”

Bobby smiled. “There’s more, Mr. Matthews. The Hilmers say that when they came in that night they saw a guy sitting in a medium-sized sedan in the parking lot. They even got a good look at his face, because they caught him with their headlights when they parked. They can describe him. I’m sure that guy never came in here, Mr. Matthews. It was a slow night, and I’d remember.”

Molly has said since the beginning that she saw a medium-sized sedan pulling out of the lot, Philip thought. Maybe this is our break at last.

“The Hilmers said they won’t be home until nine o’clock tonight, Mr. Matthews. They said if anyone wants to see them after that time, though, he should just be at their house. They understand how important this could be to Mrs. Lasch and are anxious to help.”

“I’ll be on their doorstep,” Philip Matthews said. “Oh God, will I be on their doorstep!”

“The Hilmers said they parked right next to a brand-new Mercedes that night. They remembered because it was cold and that was as near to the entrance as you could get. I told them that must have been Mrs. Lasch’s car.”

“Obviously I hired the wrong person to help me with the investigation, Bobby. Where did you learn about all this?” Philip asked.

Bobby smiled benignly. “Mr. Matthews, I’m the son of a public defender, and he’s a good teacher. I plan to be a public defender too.”

“You’ve got a hell of a start,” Philip told him. “Let me have that coffee, Bobby. I need it.”