Mrs. Norton’s mouth dropped open and she sank into a chair and leaned forward. “Murder?” She rested her head in her hands and sat still a moment. Finally, she looked up, confusion and pleading on her face. “There must be some mistake?”

“What is your, or your husband’s, relationship with Werner Shaft?” Hank asked.

She sat back and frowned. “I hardly know him. He and my husband were in prison together a few years ago, and as far as I know, they haven’t seen each other since.”

Hank sat on the edge of the couch and pulled out his notepad and pen. “Do either you or your husband own a gun?”

“No, I sure don’t. And I don’t think my husband does anymore. After his time in prison, he settled down and works hard. He hasn’t been in any kind of trouble since.” She tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure you have the right man?”

Hank disregarded her question and looked at his notes. “Does your husband drive a white Honda Accord?”

She nodded.

King came into the room. “There’s no car in the garage.” He looked at Mrs. Norton. “Does your husband own a plaid shirt?”

She looked at King. “Yes, he’s fond of plaid. He owns several.”

“The closet is full of them,” King said to Hank. “According to the witness, the killer wore a plaid shirt.”

“A lot of people own plaid shirts,” Hank said. He made a note in his pad.

King held up a small, green plastic box placed inside an evidence bag. “I found this in the basement. A box of .38-caliber cartridges. It’s empty.”

Hank looked at the box. “No weapon?”

“Can’t find a gun anywhere.”

“Not surprising. If he didn’t come home, he still has it with him.”

Mrs. Norton’s eyes moved back and forth between the box and the two detectives, her face clouded with confusion.

“Keep looking,” Hank said to King, and then turned back to Mrs. Norton. “Do you have any idea where your husband might be?”

She shook her head. “He always comes home after work. I can’t understand it. Something must’ve happened to him.”

“King,” Hank called. He went out to the hallway where the detective stopped and turned around. “Get a BOLO out on Norton right away. And also on his car. If this guy’s on the run, he might be using his own vehicle.”

“Done.”

Hank went back to the front room and sat on the couch.

“Detective,” Mrs. Norton said. “Michael has some family in Toronto. Perhaps he went there.”

“We’ll check,” Hank said. “I’ll need their names and addresses as well as a list of all his acquaintances.”

“I can do that right away. I hope you find him and he can clear this up.” She fidgeted with her hands as she spoke. “My husband didn’t murder anyone. I’m sure of that.”

“The sooner we find him, the quicker we can sort this out, Mrs. Norton. Whatever you can do to help will make things go faster.”

She leaned forward and looked intently at Hank. “I’ll help any way I can. I’m worried about my husband. He might be in danger.”

Hank stood. “We’ll do our best to find him. Thank you, Mrs. Norton.” He tucked his notepad away and turned to leave. “An officer will stay here until you have the list ready.”

Hank found King looking through the kitchen cupboards. “Anything interesting?” Hank asked.

“Nothing.” King closed the cupboard door and turned to Hank. “I guess we’re done here for now.”

Hank instructed an officer to stay and wait for the list. On the way out he gave Mrs. Norton his card and asked her to contact him if she heard from her husband. He and King left the house, went to the car, and got in.

King turned to Hank. “Any more leads to follow?”

Hank leaned back in his seat and let out a long breath. “Not right now. As soon as Mrs. Norton gets that list together, I want you to check them out. Norton’s hiding somewhere.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m going to visit Richmond Distributing to talk to Werner Shaft’s coworkers. One of them might know something.” He started the car and pulled away from the curb. “And then we’ll wait for the forensic report and the ME’s report and see if they have anything for us.”

As they drove back to the precinct, they discussed what little they knew of the case. Hank was hard-pressed to come up with a motive, and until they found Michael Norton, there was little else they could do.

Chapter 11

Tuesday, 11:39 a.m.

ANNIE CALLED CHRIS and updated him on the arrest of the organization plaguing Cranston’s. The head of security was amazed at the complexity and extent of the black market in boosted goods.

Cranston’s was not the only retailer hit so hard. The group of thieves targeted grocery stores and pharmacies as well, and their inventory of items covered almost every aspect of retail goods imaginable.

Annie was making detailed notes outlining the successful operation when the phone on her desk rang.

The caller introduced herself as Maria Shaft. “Mrs. Lincoln,” the woman said, and sighed deeply. “My husband was murdered yesterday, and although the police have a suspect, it seems he’s fled.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your husband, Mrs. Shaft. Please call me Annie. What can we do to help?”

“I want you to find my husband’s killer.”

Annie hesitated. “The police are capable of handling this. They have a lot more resources at their disposal than we do.”

“Nonetheless, I’d like you to help, if you’re willing.” Her voice broke and she paused a moment. “My husband was a good man and I want his killer found and stopped.”

Annie asked the woman to hold and went to the kitchen where Jake sat at the table, reading the newspaper. She explained the phone call and the caller’s request.

“We have nothing pressing right now,” Jake said. “It won’t hurt to talk to her.”

“What can we do the police can’t?” Annie asked.

Jake shrugged. “Who knows?”

Annie realized, as the head of RHPD robbery/homicide, this would be Hank’s case. He was as capable as any detective, and better than most. Nonetheless, they could look into it.

“We’ll go and see her.” Annie said, and went back to the office. She made arrangements with Mrs. Shaft to visit her right away.

She hung up the phone thoughtfully. If they chose to take the case, she knew Hank would be willing to share any information he had with them. He often said they were on the same side, so why keep secrets? Justice was more important to him than territory.

Although some cops in the precinct objected to their close relationship with the homicide detective, Captain Diego didn’t argue all that strenuously. Their success was his success, and gave him another notch in his belt. The captain had recently gone so far as to offer them positions as auxiliary constables—which they had politely declined.

It didn’t take Jake long to get ready. He picked his keys from a wicker basket in the kitchen, tucked his cell phone in its holder, and stood by the front door, waiting for her.

Annie shut down her computer, changed her clothes, and grabbed her handbag containing a notepad, a digital recorder, and her cell phone, along with a variety of other necessities.

Jake had tired of waiting and pulled the Firebird from the garage, revving it up when she got in.

A few minutes later they parked in front of Maria Shaft’s residence, went up the walkway, and rang the bell.

Mrs. Shaft opened the door, they introduced themselves, and she ushered them in.

A man standing by a brick fireplace at the far side of the living room turned when they entered, approached them, and held out a hand. “Rocky Shaft. Werner’s brother.”

The man looked to be midthirties, casually dressed, with a long, solemn face as grim and unsmiling as Maria’s. They both appeared to be under a lot of strain, understandable given the circumstances.