Matt rubs his face with both hands, as if attempting to rub away exhaustion. “The suspect and the victim were estranged,” he says, “but according to the husband, they were reconciling.”

Rule number one, learned in the first week of the criminal justice program: assume everyone is lying.

“The victim could have changed her mind,” Terry says. “She might have decided to move forward with the divorce. Rage, jealousy, unrequited love. All powerful motives for murder.”

Matt nods, and Terry thinks of his friend’s problems, the former wife’s cunning, her manipulative tactics, would have been enough to make a weaker man consider murder.

Matt’s lucky to be rid of her. Finally.

“The suspect didn’t have an alibi,” Matt says.

“Tough for him.”

Usually a suspect can come up with at least one witness, even if the timing isn’t perfect. But this guy doesn’t have a single one, not a hotel desk clerk or a bartender who can establish an out for him. Never a good sign.

And the suspect was certainly strong enough to crush Allison Thomasia’s skull, given the right weapon.

Andy Thomasia could have had all three-motive, opportunity, and means.

“If only they would locate the murder weapon,” Terry says.

“They will.”

Police have searched the hotel room. Nothing there, but Terry isn’t surprised.

“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head,” Matt says. “Lacerations suggesting an object such as a hammer. But also sharp cuts, three deep incisional wounds. I called the ME. Not a claw hammer, she says. It isn’t sharp enough.”

Terry and Matt go through the different types-sledge, club, ball, brick.

Matt likes the brick hammer idea. “It’s designed for breaking bricks,” he explains. “It has a blunt end, but it also has a sharp end. It’s a possibility as a murder weapon.”

“Is your suspect a bricklayer?” Terry asks.

“No. He’s a mechanical engineer.”

“A handyman type?”

“No idea. Can you put someone on it and start checking hardware stores?”

“At your service,” Terry says.

The Thomasia woman had crawled from one gravestone to another. The perpetrator had attempted to drag her away. Why had he stopped? Fear of discovery? More likely the trail of blood that followed behind the victim canceled out his efforts to move her to a different grave site.

The sharp blows that finished her off were delivered at the second headstone.

No defensive marks on the victim’s knuckles or under her fingernails. The attack was unexpected, but the perpetrator wasn’t. Allison knew her killer.

Matt’s phone rings.

“They found Andy Thomasia’s California driver’s license,” he says when he disconnects, already rising from his chair.

“Where?”

“Under a bush at the entrance to Eternal View Cemetery.”

“That takes care of it then.”

“Maybe.”

Rule number two: assume the possibility that evidence has been planted.

“Something is out of whack,” Matt says.

He doesn’t stick around to explain, but Terry agrees.

26

Andy Thomasia was waiting near the coffee shop at the arranged time. He rode in the backseat while he listened carefully to the impromptu plan that Caroline and Gretchen had implemented on his behalf. The original idea to stash him away in their home was no longer feasible, given the police protection that seemed to be in place.

Two days, Gretchen reminded the former sweethearts. The deadline was Sunday at three in the afternoon. If they didn’t have a killer in their sights with enough information to go to the police, Andy would turn himself in.

“Why was Allison’s doll at the cemetery?” he wanted to know.

“That’s what I want to ask you,” Caroline said.

“I have no idea, although she did bring a few dolls along on the trip to give as gifts if she found any relatives. It makes me think she was meeting someone.”

“Are you sure you were staying with Allison?” Gretchen said, dispersing with social etiquette and cutting right to the chase. “You don’t have a clue what her plans were. You can’t tell us who she met, where she went, or what she was doing.”

“Research, I told you. Genealogy study of her family history.”

“You must have more than that,” Caroline said. “A name, an address, something to help us?”

“I don’t care about things like who her third cousin twice removed might be. Come on, give me a break. All those charts and tree branches, who cares?”

Charts? Gretchen thought. Of course!

Gretchen almost slammed into the car ahead of her when it stopped at a light. She looked at Caroline, then glanced quickly back at Andy. “Were these charts computerized?” she asked.

“She had a printout in her purse,” Andy said. “But the police told me that she didn’t have her purse when they found her. She used a computer program to record her genealogy research, and while we were in Phoenix, she carried a notebook. That’s gone, too. It would have been inside her purse.”

“Did she bring her laptop?”

Andy shook his head.

“Can we access her home computer records?”

“Without going back to LA, I don’t see how.”

Gretchen stopped the car in front of a central Phoenix soup kitchen. Daisy had been quick to agree to their plan. Nacho, on the other hand, had reservations but had acquiesced with a little prompting from his fiancée.

“We’re leaving you with some friends,” Caroline explained to Andy. “Trust them. They won’t turn you in. What they will do is give you different clothes to wear and show you how to fit in. Follow their example. Watch how they act and follow suit. No one will look for you here. You’ll be in good hands.”

Andy nodded.

Gretchen gave her mother’s old friend a hard look to convey her feelings of distrust. “We won’t make contact with you until we have something to go on. Word will come to you through those who are helping.”

“I understand.”

While Caroline was inside getting Andy settled in his new environment with their homeless friends, Gretchen contemplated her next move. She couldn’t access Allison Thomasia’s computer, but she knew who could.

“Detective Albright,” she said when he answered his phone. “I have information for you.”

“Ms. Birch. So pleased to hear from you.”

“Were you worried?”

“Should I be?”

The man liked to answer her questions with his own. She knew he had to be concerned, because their tail would have informed him that he’d lost the Birch car. Too bad.

“You sound excited,” he said with a playful amusement in his tone she could tell was forced. “What is this intriguing information? A new doll collection purchased by your lovely mother that will make you a rich woman? A newly opened restaurant to which you are about to invite me?”

He was going to be so angry with her in a few more minutes. Gretchen almost hung up.

“We have a bad connection,” she said. “I’ll call you back.”

“I can hear you perfectly fine.”

Great.

“What I have to say is important.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Allison Thomasia was related to our skeleton. I mean to the Swilling family. She was in Phoenix researching her family tree.”

“Yes. I know.” A harder tone.

Jeez.

“Check her computer. She kept computerized records of her findings. You might find something useful in them.”

Heavy, heavy sigh on the other end. “I’ve already done that. Where are you?”

“Uh, running errands.”

“You’re hiding from me, aren’t you?”

“Of course not. I can’t believe you think that. Why would I hide?”

She could have told him that the Birch women were busy trying to keep from getting killed and that to accomplish that goal they were aiding and abetting his primary suspect.

He’d read her rights to her if she’d said that.

“Are you any closer to finding out who tried to kill my mother?”