A.J. jotted a couple of notes in the margin of the neatly typed page. Through the open window she could hear the sweet song of a bird settling in for the night, and Monster snuffling along the flower bed.

“Monster!” she growled.

The snuffling stopped. But in the silence she heard the approach of a familiar engine. Heart beating with sudden excitement, A.J. rose and looked out the front window.

Headlights were coming down the road.

The familiar four-wheel drive utility vehicle with police insignia pulled into her front yard and Jake got out.

A.J. went out on the porch to greet him. He kissed her hello-not a deep, passionate kiss, true, but not a perfunctory peck either.

“This is a surprise,” she said.

“Yeah. Well.” He followed her inside the house and down the hall to the kitchen. “I thought since I was in the area I’d come by and tell you what we found out on Dora Beauford.”

A.J. studied his stern profile. She knew Jake well enough to know he was about to give her news he didn’t want to deliver. Perhaps it was about the case against her mother. Perhaps not. Her nerves tightened.

She made herself guess out loud. “Dora Beauford has an alibi.”

He nodded grimly.

“What kind of alibi?”

“She was getting her hair done.”

“Where?”

Jake was already shaking his head. “Not at The Salon.”

“Did you ask?” She handed him a jar of ground coffee; the lid had a tendency to stick.

He opened it automatically, saying, “Of course I asked. I had to verify her alibi.”

“Did you ask her about The Salon?”

He hesitated.

“You didn’t. Why? What would it have hurt? Couldn’t you just this once have-”

“Hold on. Of course I asked,” he interrupted. “And, yes, she was a client for a time. But I think you’re pinning too much on that connection.”

A.J. scooped coffee into the machine. “And to think I believed Mother was jumping to conclusions. Jake, they’re running some kind of blackmail scheme out of The Salon.”

If she’d imagined she would surprise him with that theory, she was disappointed. Jake said, “I know that’s what you think-you might even be right-but nobody tried to blackmail Dora Beauford.”

“You questioned her about that? Specifically?”

“Believe it or not, A.J., I do know how to do my job.”

She had the grace to blush. “Sorry. It’s just…”

“I know. This time it’s personal.”

She grimaced. Personal and painful. Jake’s expression was uncompromising; he met her gaze unwaveringly. “I do understand. I promise you I’m following every lead.”

“Could Dora be lying?”

He shrugged. “It’s always a possibility. I didn’t get that feeling, though.”

A.J. studied his face. “But still, it’s too much to be a coincidence. That all of these women were connected to the same beauty salon?”

“I agree. Up to a point.”

“That point being?”

“Motive for murder.”

“I’m not following. If all these women are being blackmailed-”

“Honey-A.J. First of all, your mother already admits that she was being blackmailed. So there’s nothing new there.”

“But it’s a blackmail ring. It has to be.”

“Maybe. We haven’t proved that yet. But say you’re right. From the perspective of the DA, that doesn’t clear Elysia. Just the opposite.”

“But it has to throw some doubt. A blackmail ring means that there were other victims. Other women with a motive for wanting Massri out of the way.”

“Not necessarily. An argument could be made that all these women were being blackmailed but your mother is the only one who turned violent. You’ve also yet to prove a connection between Massri and The Salon. Shampoo bottles in the shower aren’t going to hold up in court. You said it yourself: the hair care products could belong to one of his lady friends.”

“But then Massri himself becomes the connection. The fact that he was involved with all these women and the women all went to the same salon? That has to be significant.”

He answered on what appeared to be a tangent. “The other problem I’ve got, from what you’ve managed to uncover, it’s these other women-the victims-who seem to be at risk.” He added quickly, as A.J. opened her mouth, “And from a blackmailer’s perspective, that’s not good business.”

“Maybe it was better business than the alternative. Peggy Graham’s sister says Peggy was aggressively pursuing whoever blackmailed her. Maybe someone was afraid of exposure.”

“Peggy Graham’s sister?” Jake inquired too politely.

“Er, yes. Actually, I was going to tell you about that.” She said quickly, trying to head him off, “Mother is, as I’m sure you could guess, really upset about Maddie’s death and when she remembered that Peggy Graham had a sister-”

Jake interrupted. “She’s snooping. Don’t bother to gift wrap it. She announced to the entire world she’d solve the damn case herself, and that’s exactly what she’s set out to do.”

The assorted stress and strains of the last two weeks got the better of A.J.’s temper, and she snapped, “Well, do you blame her?”

He stared at her for a long, bleak moment. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t blame her. I’d probably try to do the same thing, but she’s liable to get herself deeper in hot water-and drag you in, too.”

This was such an unexpected relenting of Jake’s previous attitude that A.J. didn’t know what to say. He solved that problem by asking her to fill him in on what she and Elysia had learned from Mart Crowley.

Jake heard her out in mostly silence and sipped his coffee. At the end of A.J.’s recital he said, “Okay, so maybe Peggy Graham’s decision to take action against the extortionists made someone nervous and they decided to deal with her. But it wasn’t Massri, obviously, since Graham wasn’t seeing him.”

A.J. bit her lip. “You’re saying it’s a dead end.”

He sighed. “I’m saying… that there does seem to be a connection between these women and The Salon, but it’s not enough. I don’t buy the blackmail angle as sufficient motive for murder. You don’t kill the goose that lays the golden egg.”

“Then what do you buy? Because if nothing else, it’s ridiculous to think my mother would shoot someone in her front garden.”

“Listen, you don’t have to convince me. I don’t believe Elysia shot Massri. I admit I initially wondered.” He clarified hastily, “It crossed my mind, that’s all-but having interviewed her several times since the incident, I agree. She’s not our perp. But an argument like that doesn’t get us anywhere. People kill other people all the time in stupid and brutal ways. Murder doesn’t take a mastermind. It takes someone whose self-interest knows no boundaries, be it a brain surgeon in the Hamptons or a junkie in Harlem.”

“Your point being?”

“You’re going to have to come up with a better line of defense.”

“What about the scandal at the SCA?”

“I’m still working that angle. It appears that Massri accepted bribes not to investigate allegations of illegal excavations and the smuggling of antiquities.”

“That sounds promising.”

“Maybe. There’s no question that illegal trade in antiquities is still big money. Unscrupulous collectors, private and public, are always on the lookout for valuable artifacts. High quality relics are freely available on the international market if you know where to look and so long as the interested parties are prepared to pay enormous sums. And Egyptian antiquities are pretty much as popular as ever.”

“Maybe Massri crossed the wrong people?”

“Maybe, but as far as I can tell the people he crossed were the Egyptian government and his colleagues at the SCA. I don’t think either of those entities came gunning for him in Elysia’s front yard.”

“How could Massri get away with that kind of thing?”

“He was in the perfect position to get away with it-he was supposed to be one of the watchdogs.”

“That’s pretty low. Trading in national treasures.”