“That’s our best bet,” Annie said, pointing to the bungalow. She pulled the car ahead thirty feet and stopped.

“What if no one’s home?” Jake asked.

“We’ll soon see. There’s a vehicle parked in the driveway.”

The door opened to Jake’s knock by an elderly man, a cane in one shaky hand, and he looked at Jake over top of a pair of reading glasses. “Yes?”

Jake introduced Annie and himself. “Could we ask you a few questions?”

The old man squinted at Jake, then offered Annie a smile. “Glad to help,” he said. “Sara and I don’t get a lot of visitors.” He stepped back. “Come right on in. Make yourself at home and don’t mind the cat and she won’t mind you.”

Water could be heard running from down the hallway, probably from the kitchen.

“Sara,” the man called in a shaky voice. “We got company.”

The water stopped, and in a moment, a woman appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on an apron. Her gray hair was worked up into a bun, and a pleasant smile adorned her face as she shuffled toward them. She stopped and beckoned. “Bring them on into the kitchen, Abe. Where’s your manners?”

A jug of orange juice and a generous plate of baked goods were set in front of them almost before the Lincolns could pull back chairs and sit down.

Sara poured the juice and pushed the plate of goodies toward Jake. “Fill up on this, young man. You look like you could hold a few. And there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Jake thanked her and helped himself.

“Ma’am,” Annie began.

“You can call me Sara.” She pointed at the old man. “And this here’s Abe.” She patted Annie’s hand and beamed. “Sorry to interrupt, dear. You go right ahead.”

Annie smiled. The woman reminded her of everyone’s grandmother. “Sara, I don’t know if you’ve heard about Werner Shaft’s death, but we’re looking into it.”

“Dear me, what a dreadful thing that is. Yes, we heard about that. Shocking.” She looked at the old man. “Wouldn’t you say, Abe?”

Abe nodded. “Shocking. Indeed.”

“And how can we help, my dear?” Sara asked.

“Did you know Werner Shaft?”

“Oh, sure. Werner was a fine man. Can’t say as much for his brother.”

“Rocky?” Jake said, popping a chocolate square into his mouth.

“Has a bad temper, I’ll say that. Why he’s always after Abe about one thing or another. Isn’t he, Abe?”

“Sure is.”

“What about Maria? Do she and Rocky get along?”

Sara covered her mouth. “Don’t know as I should gossip ’bout this, but I think them two are up to something.”

“Such as?” Jake asked.

Sara leaned in and lowered her voice. “Well, they’re just too close. Many’s the time when they don’t think anyone’s watching and I see them in the back yard together.”

“When Werner was there?”

“No. No. When he wasn’t there.”

“What did you see?” Jake asked. He took a chug of orange juice.

“Don’t know as I should say,” the old woman said.

“Go ahead, Sara,” Abe said. “You ain’t never kept nothing quiet for long anyway. Might as well spill the beans on this one.”

Sara whispered, “They get amorous.”

Annie tilted her head slightly to one side. “An affair?”

“Sure as tarnation.”

Jake and Annie exchanged a look. She knew he was thinking the same as her. Could Rocky or Maria have killed Werner? Or perhaps they were in it together?

Annie eyed Sara closely. “You’re sure about this?”

Sara sat back and looked at Abe. “Tell them, Abe. You’ve seen them carrying on.”

Abe nodded. “I have to confirm what the old woman says. There’s something up between them two and it ain’t innocent.”

Annie pulled a business card from her handbag and slid it in front of Sara. “You’ve been a big help. Call me if you can think of anything else.”

“I sure will,” Sara said. “You can bet I’m gonna be keepin’ a sharp eye out from now on.”

Abe chuckled. “I can vouch for that. It’s what she does best.”

Annie and Jake stood, thanked them again, and Sara saw them to the door. “Drop in again some time,” the old woman said, as they left.

Annie laughed and glanced at Jake when the door closed behind them. “Maybe we should offer Sara a part-time job. She’s got the knack.”

Jake chuckled. “She’d probably be good at stakeouts.”

They got in the car and Annie started the engine then turned to Jake. “The affair between Rocky and Maria could explain a lot. The problem is, it doesn’t tell us anything about why Michael Norton was killed.”

“Did Rocky kill his brother and frame Norton for it?”

“It’s possible,” Annie said. “But then we’re back to the same question. Who killed Norton, and why?”

Chapter 34

Thursday, 9:22 a.m.

AS TIRED AS HANK had been the night before, he was robbed of sleep by the perplexing facts of the case running through his mind. He’d risen early to get a fresh start, and though he’d been up for a couple of hours, he felt he was making little headway.

A call to King to see if the detective found any information on the drug heist went unanswered. A quick study of his notes revealed nothing new, and to make matters worse, a plugged sink in the bathroom wasted a half hour of valuable time.

He downed a quick breakfast, made a short phone call to Amelia over coffee, and was raring to go.

He gathered up the stacks of notes, reports, and folders, and stuffed them into his briefcase. After fastening his service weapon in place, he headed out the door, determined to make the day count.

His old Chevy clanked and banged when he turned the key. It had served him faithfully for several years, but by the sounds of the engine, he would need a new vehicle before long. Not an easy thing to do with only a cop’s salary and the small car allowance RHPD allowed him.

When he arrived at the precinct, he parked behind, made a mental note King’s car wasn’t there, and hoped the detective was doing something productive for a change.

The precinct was in high gear when Hank stepped inside. Cops leaned over their desks, or consulted with one another. Captain Diego’s face was buried in paperwork, and across the room, Callaway squinted at his monitor.

The heat of the day was already infiltrating the room, the useless air conditioner doing little except rumble, and Hank made a mental note to talk to Diego about replacing the worn out piece of junk.

He headed for the break room. This was starting to be a bad day. Someone drained the coffee pot and left it turned on. Hank started a fresh pot. At least he knew it would be palatable, not like most of the rotgut sludge he had to endure when someone else made it.

Things took a turn for the better when he got to his desk, sat his coffee down, and spied the medical examiner’s report regarding the murder of Michael Norton, sitting dead center on his desk. Beside it lay the preliminary ballistics report. He sat and pulled up his chair, booted up his computer, and flipped open the folder containing the ME’s findings.

The listed cause of death was not surprising—a gunshot wound causing exsanguination. Norton bled to death after catastrophic injury to the heart.

The manner of death was homicide—that was obvious, and Nancy concluded Norton was killed elsewhere, perhaps a half hour prior to being dumped near the railroad tracks.

The interesting part was the trajectory of the bullet. Gunshot residue indicated it had been fired from a distance of eighteen to twenty-four inches and entered the body at a thirty degree downward angle.

Hank did some quick calculations, and as far as he could tell, the victim had been either standing or kneeling when shot. Norton might’ve been tied to a chair, or on his knees, begging for his life when the fatal bullet entered his body.