“He was helping her across thestreet,for God’s sake!”

Decker said, “Cynthia, I’m aware that Koby’s not a child molester. And the mere fact that I can get you rattled so easily shows how simple it is to throw out false allegations. Koby knew exactly what he was doing with Sarah. Why? Because he’s a male who works almost exclusively with kids and women, and has probably been trained in how to respond to sexual overtures. His answer to Sarah’s request to get tickled was a good one. He refused to engage in any kind of dubious physical contact with her, even if it meant hurting Sarah’s feelings. When you question witnesses, you’ve got to go in without a bias. Which is why I don’t want Sarah talking to him. We’ve got a bias.”

I was frustrated. “So what do we do?”

Decker furrowed his brow. “You really hate this guy Buck, don’t you?”

“Dad, I don’t know him well enough to truly hate him.” I sipped my latte. “But I would like to remind you that there were other deaths that resulted from the hit-and-run, including a baby. Whoever killed Belinda is responsible for multiple deaths.”

“You’ve exchanged angry words with him?”

“Yeah, I kind of browbeat him, but then I apologized.”

Dad’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Actually, yes. Afterward, we began to talk. He knows I’m suspicious of him.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I asked him where he was the night Belinda was murdered. It was a throwaway comment at the time. I wish I had taken him more seriously.”

“Where was he?”

“Home with his dog, watching a movie.” I shrugged. “He actually seemed to be enjoying the questions. I think they made him feel like a big shot instead of the bug that he is.”

“Interesting.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “So this is what you do, Cindy. You call him up and ask him out for coffee to go over the night again with him.”

I was confused. “Warn him that we still consider him a suspect?”

“Then be smart about it. Be casual. Whose case is the hit-and-run?”

“Brill’s.”

“Great. I’ll talk to him and we’ll get the details nailed down. But it’ll go like this. You ask him to meet you anywhere they serve coffee exclusively in paper cups. Run a few questions by him. Generic questions. Keep it light. Even flirt a little. Then when you’re done, offer to throw away his cup for him. Don’t wait for an answer, just pick it up and head for the garbage. Brill will arrange to have a team near the trash with a hidden video camera on you as backup so no one can say that you planted evidence. You throwyourcup away, but drop his cup in an evidence bag that’ll be placed right near the garbage can. If the cup’s still partially full, make sure it doesn’t spill over the rim. And whatever you do, don’t get your cups mixed up.”

I sat up. “His saliva will be on the cup. We get his DNA.”

“Depends on the residue… how much he drools when he drinks. Wouldn’t hurt if you wore something sexy.”

“Like fishnets?”

“A little more subtle for professionalism.”

“You really think you can get his DNA from a coffee cup?”

“It’s worth a shot.” Decker sat back in his chair. “Let me have a minute to clear my thoughts.”

“Take your time.”

He did. A few minutes later, he straightened. “Okay. This is the approach. We have two independent investigations going on. One is Sarah Sanders and her dark secret. We suspect molestation, but we don’t know for sure and we don’t know who’s involved. She won’t talk to us, but she’ll talk to Koby. When the timing’s right, you or Brill will talk to Koby and explain that we suspect something’s amiss and would he mind talking to Sarah about it. You don’t mention, hint at, or imply that this has anything to do with Belinda Syracuse, okay? Because as of right now, it doesn’t.”

“Got it.”

“In the meantime,” Decker said, “you, Cindy, have not forgotten about poor Belinda. You witnessed the accident, and it still haunts you.”

“Actually, that’s the truth.”

“Then you don’t have to fake anything to convince Brill of your sincerity. You know you have DNA and a partial print as evidence but no one to connect it to. You remember Belinda’s brother saying that someone from the center was supposed to pick up Belinda and give her a ride back. Now, you checked out the center’s phone records, but of course nothing popped, nothing fit. And you know you can’t check personal phone records because that’s trampling on Fifth Amendment rights. But you’re slowly going down the list of people who might have had contact with her, starting with Klinghoffner.”

“Are you serious?”

“I know you don’t think it’s him, but start with him. Do the exact thing with Klinghoffner that you’re going to do with Buck.”

“Take him out for coffee.”

“Exactly. That way, you don’t show prejudice. Then do Buck; then do anyone else who works there-start from the top dog, down to the lowly maintenance man, and you include the women because you haven’t any idea if this is a molestation or not. You can collect paper cups and use them as evidence without asking permission from the suspects because they gave you permission to throw them away, ceding the right of private ownership. The cups are now public property.”

“Is the Department going to pay for all this DNA testing?”

“A very valid question. The hit-and-run was gruesome and a baby died, so maybe.”

Decker held up a finger. “The main thing is we have to set it up without bias. This way, Koby doesn’t know what you’re doing, and you don’t know what Sarah Sanders told him. It’s all timing-like an orchestra. Strings can’t come in too early, oboes can’t miss the beat, or you have a mess instead of music. They don’t call it conducting an investigation for nothing.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Be thankful that brains are inherited.”

They had decided on an afternoon tea because tea was more casual than dinner.

This was the menu.

Tray one: assorted finger sandwiches-egg salad, lox, tuna, cucumber with tomatoes, and cheese.

Tray two: finger food, including dainty bite-size potato knishes, miniature spinach quiches, vegetarian egg rolls, and fried pot stickers. Accompanying these edibles would be a soy sauce, a sweet-and-sour sauce, and ketchup.

Trays three and four: assorted breads, including but not limited to croissants, brioches, seed rolls, minibagels, olive and basil bread, and a caraway-seed rye. There was also butter, margarine, clotted cream, and strawberry jam for sides.

Trays five and six: the baked goods. Mini pecan pies, assorted mini fruit tarts, éclairs, petits fours, napoleons, cookies, muffins, scones, and cupcakes.

Tray seven: fresh fruit dipped in white and dark chocolate.

Tray eight was just plain fresh fruit.

Somewhere in Magda’s dining room, there was also tea, coffee, and mineral water.

Rina’s father was taking a nap, and the women were puttering around trying not to get on each other’s nerves. Decker had made himself comfortable in an armchair in the living room. He had dressed in a blue button-down shirt and tan slacks-no jacket-and loafers without socks. It was hot even in the city. He said, “I thought this was supposed to be informal.”

“Just a little something.” Magda paced. “I don’t know why you do this to me, Ginny.”

“Do what?” Rina asked.

“Dig up bones.”

“I got inspired after hearing you talk about your childhood.”

“You talk about your childhood. I don’t invite your old friends to your house.”

“Mama, I asked you first. You could have said no.”

“ThenIlook bad.” Magda stopped pacing and focused her flaming blue eyes on her daughter. “It’s my life, Ginny! Before you talked to Marta, you should have come to me first!”

“I should have, but I didn’t,” Rina answered calmly. “Again I apologize.”

“It is too late for that,nu?Now I am stuck! All week I bake and bake and bake-”