“Because her husband was still alive,” Brandon explained. “She didn’t send you that note until after Fred Holmes died.”

“Why?” Geet asked. “What does that have to do with the price of peanuts?”

“She claims Fred was the one who did it-the one who murdered Ursula Brinker. She said she didn’t know about it until five years ago. When Fred finally got around to telling her, he had just been diagnosed with cancer. She waited until after he was dead to send you that letter.”

“But I checked Fred Holmes’s alibi,” Geet objected. “I had witnesses who placed him in Phoenix that whole weekend.”

Brandon was struck by the fact that even after all these years and even in the throes of cancer, Geet still had a complete grasp of the details of that case. He had no difficulty recalling the names of the people involved.

For him it’s like golf, Brandon thought. Or throwing pots.

“The alibi came from his mother?” Brandon asked.

“Yes.”

“She may have thought he was there, but he wasn’t. He drove to San Diego and back without his mother ever knowing he was gone.”

“Why did it happen?” Geet asked.

“Ursula and June started out as friends. On that trip they evidently became closer than friends.”

“As in a homosexual encounter?”

Brandon knew Geet had suspected as much. He nodded. “Someone walked in on them and caught them in the act. Word about what had happened got back to Fred. According to June, it was just a onetime thing. Maybe it was; maybe it wasn’t. At any rate, this was a long time before Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell. Fred and June had both been raised as devout Mormons where that kind of thing was then and still is a big no-no. When Fred heard about it, he went ape and drove straight to San Diego to put a stop to it. Ursula ended up dead.”

“Who spilled the beans and told him about what was going on?”

“June said she thought maybe it was Margo.”

“The girl who owned the car.”

Brandon nodded.

Geet thought about that for a moment. “A couple of people hinted around that something like that might have happened between Ursula and June. I wondered about Fred from the beginning, but as far as I could tell, his alibi checked out. What if she’s lying?”

“What if June Holmes is lying now?” Brandon asked.

Geet nodded. “What if June was the one who ran up the flag to Fred in the first place?” he asked. “Maybe she knew he was likely to overreact?”

“I don’t think so,” Brandon said. “I don’t think she told Fred about what happened before Ursula died, but she did shortly after it happened. She thought that when she made her confession to him that he’d drop her like a hot potato. She’s spent most of the last fifty years being grateful that he didn’t. When he finally got around to telling her what had really happened, he was counting on her standing by him the same way he had stood by her. He figured those forty-five years of gratitude would keep her from spilling the beans. It was also a form of punishment.”

“Sounds like it worked on both counts,” Geet grumbled.

Brandon nodded. “She didn’t say a word to anyone about it until after he was dead. By the time you reopened the case, Fred had already confessed to her. That’s why she refused to talk to you. She didn’t want her kids and grandkids to know what Fred had done. And she didn’t want them to know about what she and Ursula had done, either.”

Geet shook his head. “If you ask me, it seems a little suspect and way too convenient that she’s blaming Fred now, after he’s dead and unable to defend himself. Do you believe her?”

“Actually, I do,” Brandon told him. “She had her suitcase packed and her cat crated. She fully expected that I was coming to pack her off to jail. She was under the impression that by knowing about it and not telling, that made her an accessory after the fact. I think she was on the level.”

Reaching into his pocket, Brandon withdrew the Ziploc bag containing the hunting knife and handed it over to Geet.

“What’s this?”

“That may be the murder weapon,” Brandon told him. “After Fred died, one of their sons was going through his tools and found this hidden in the back of one of the drawers in his father’s tool chest. In all the years June and Fred were married, she said she had never seen it before, didn’t know it existed. I’ll get it over to the crime lab and see if they can find any DNA evidence. There might be some, right there in the crack where the blade meets the handle.”

Geet examined the knife through the clear plastic and then gave it back to Brandon. “What if there is?” he asked with an exasperated shrug. “What’s the point? Ursula is still dead. So are her parents. So is Fred. What about justice? No one is ever going to pay for that crime.”

“June is paying,” Brandon said quietly. “She may not have murdered Ursula, but she knows now that what the two of them did together that day was the ultimate cause of her friend’s death. I believe she’ll regret it every day for the rest of her life.”

Geet leaned back against his pillows, closed his eyes, and shook his head in obvious disgust. “So that’s it, then,” he said. “I’ve spent a lifetime chasing after this case and it’s all for nothing.”

“Not for nothing,” Brandon told him. “We finally have a better idea about what happened. Regardless of whether it goes to trial, I believe we can both know that this case is finally closed.”

“If Fred’s the one who did it, I should have caught him sooner,” Geet insisted. “There must have been something I missed, something that would have given the game away.”

“What if you had solved it?” Brandon asked. “What then? Fred might have gotten sent up for a couple of years, but you and I wouldn’t be here right now, Geet. It was because Ursula’s murder wasn’t solved that Hedda Brinker used her lotto millions to start The Last Chance. I personally know of at least fifteen separate families that TLC has helped over the years-families who now have answers about their murdered loved ones that they wouldn’t have had otherwise.”

Geet nodded. “I suppose that’s true,” he admitted, but the spark of focus that had briefly animated him seemed to have run its course. He closed his eyes briefly, then held out his hand. When Brandon took it, Geet’s skin was hot and paper-thin, but the grip of his handshake was surprisingly firm.

“Thank you, Brandon,” he said. “Following up on this last case of mine means more to me than you know.”

“You’re welcome,” Brandon said, rising to his feet. “Glad to help out.” He walked toward the door, then stopped. “Turns out it’s probably my last TLC case, too.”

Geet’s eyes popped open. “Why’s that?”

“Diana,” Brandon said with a shrug. “I think we’re facing some health issues, too. I’ll probably let Ralph know that I’m going to have to stand down.”

The fact that he’d made the admission surprised him. It was one thing to tell the kids. It was something else to mention the situation outside the immediate family.

“I’m sorry,” Geet said. “I hope it works out.”

“Thanks,” Brandon said. “I hope so, too.”

Tucson, Arizona

Sunday, June 7, 2009, 1:30 p.m.

87º Fahrenheit

When Brian’s cell phone rang, he expected it to be Kath. He had told her he was still working-that he wouldn’t be able to be there that afternoon to watch the girls while she went shopping.

The caller, however, turned out to be Alex Mumford. “Who the hell is Jake Abernathy?” she wanted to know.

“That would be one of Sheriff Forsythe’s fair-haired boys. I take it he called you?”

“Why didn’t you call me?” she returned pointedly.

“I got pulled from the case,” he said. “Abernathy’s lead.”

“That may be, but he’s also a jerk,” Alex said. “He called me up and started throwing his weight around. Make that he was trying to throw his weight around.”