“I don’t believe I should discuss that with anyone outside the department,” Detective Russo said curtly.

“All right, if you can’t discuss it, you can’t. I’ll just tell you that I don’t believe he did.”

At that moment a book fell from the case with a thump that made me jump half out of my skin.

“You seem very nervous, Dr. Blackburn. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

I got up and picked up the book. Irving Stone’s Men to Match My Mountains. I looked up at Chance as I replaced it on the shelf. I finally understood what he was trying to say.

“I remembered that David had been very concerned about the allegations that were being made. He told me he had proof that Chance Devereaux had wanted to replace the acid tank, but that Mr. Emery refused.”

He didn’t seem to believe me. “That’s a very serious allegation. Mr. Emery could be subject to criminal prosecution if what your husband told you is true.”

“I’m almost certain of it.”

“And you think your husband was killed to keep him silent?”

“Yes.”

He eyed me skeptically. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“As you’ve noticed, Detective Russo, I’ve been very upset. David’s death was a horrible shock.” I didn’t have to fake my response there. Just thinking about it made the color drain from my face.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Blackburn,” he said.

“No, please. And please call me Anna-only my students call me Dr. Blackburn. All I’m asking is that you help me search the place where I believe David hid the papers.”

“And where would that be?”

“Our mountain cabin,” I said, daring to peek over at Chance, who was nodding and urging me to get going.

“Is that why your husband took off work on Wednesday afternoon?”

“What?”

He pulled out a notebook and flipped through it. Finding the page he was looking for, he said, “Your husband left work at about eleven o’clock Wednesday morning. He didn’t return all day. Said he wasn’t feeling well. A woman in the office-an Annette Mayes?-said she thought he left because he was so disturbed by the deaths of the three workers the day before.”

I had nothing to say. Chance distracted me, making motions that seemed to mean, “Stand up, let’s go!”

“Look, Detective Russo, could we talk about this on the way to the cabin?”

“Lady, before we take off on a two-hour drive, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

For three or four seconds, I actually considered doing it. But whatever sense I still had allowed me to remain silent. “I thought I could depend on your help. Obviously, I was wrong. I’m leaving for the cabin and I’m leaving now.”

“All right, all right,” Russo said in a peeved tone. “Let me call in.”

He made the call while I got my coat and keys and purse. Chance disappeared for a while. I looked at Detective Russo, and realized he probably didn’t have more than his suitcoat to keep him warm. I hesitated only for a moment before going into David’s closet. “I know you don’t mind, David,” I said as I took a winter coat out, “but it bothers me.” Chance suddenly appeared next to me, motioning me to hurry. “I am hurrying!” I said.

“Anna? Who are you talking to?” Detective Russo asked. He was standing at the bedroom door.

“Oh…just talking to myself. I was getting one of my husband’s coats for you. I thought you might be cold up in the mountains. There’s snow up there now. He’s a little-he was a little taller than you, so it might be too big. But it will be better than nothing.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking it from me. “Are you sure it won’t bother you to see me wear it?”

I looked away from him and shook my head. “Let’s go.”

Chance vanished. I figured he had his own means of transportation.

Detective Russo and I didn’t say anything to each other for about the first twenty minutes of the trip. Chance suddenly appeared as a reflection in the rearview mirror. I jumped a little, but fortunately, Russo didn’t see my reaction; he was looking out the passenger window.

He turned to me. “It was your husband, wasn’t it?”

“What?” I asked, puzzled.

“When I came into the bedroom, you were talking to your husband, asking him if you could loan me the coat.”

I colored, but didn’t answer.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I talked to my wife after she died.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know you had lost your wife.”

“About four years ago now. But at first, I used to talk to her all the time. I learned to be careful-almost got a stress leave imposed on me when my lieutenant overheard me one day.”

“Did your wife ever answer you?”

He looked out the window, and for moment, I didn’t think he was going to reply. When he spoke, his voice was so low I had to strain to hear it. “In her own way, yes, she did,” he said.

He laughed then, suddenly self-conscious. “You probably think the department sent you out with a nutcase.”

“No, not at all. Until recently, if you had told me you talked to the dead, I might have questioned your sanity. But not now, Detective Russo.”

“If you’re generous enough to loan me this coat, I suppose you might be willing to call me John,” he said.

“Okay, John. Anyway, I doubt anything you could tell me about conversing with your wife would surprise me. These last few days…” I stopped, needing to steady myself.

“Do you want me to drive?” he asked.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Chance was nodding.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it,” I said, and pulled off the freeway. “I’m a little shaky.”

“I understand,” he said. “You’ve held up really well so far, all things considered.”

I stopped the car and turned to look at him. “No, I haven’t. I just try not to make a public production out of it. It would seem to-I don’t know, cheapen his memory.”

He didn’t say anything, just traded places with me, and we got back on the freeway. I positioned myself on the seat so that I could look at Chance without being too obvious. “Do you know Mrs. Devereaux?” Russo asked.

“I met her for the first time at David’s funeral,” I said, looking back at Chance, who wore an angry expression.

“At least the two of you will both benefit nicely from Emery amp; Walden’s employee life insurance program.”

“We would have, but not now. I haven’t had a chance to get the details, but David told me that Mr. Emery was changing to a less expensive insurance, one that wouldn’t pay as much. But we’ve been in fairly good financial shape anyway, with no children and two incomes.”

“The insurance hasn’t changed yet,” he said.

“What?”

He glanced over at me. “It doesn’t change until the end of the month.”

“I didn’t know.”

“The interesting thing is, the current insurance not only pays higher than the new one, it also covers death for any reason.”

“You mean, including suicide?”

“Including suicide.”

Chance was clenching his fists.

“It wasn’t suicide,” I said, and both Chance and John Russo looked at me at once.

“What’s your interest in Devereaux?”

“I told you. David was concerned about him. He knew Chance Devereaux didn’t ignore the complaints about the tank. Devereaux felt bad about what happened, but he didn’t blame himself. He was a practicing Catholic. He wouldn’t have committed suicide.”

“How do you know about his being Catholic?”

I looked away. “David and I are Catholics. You know that from being at the funeral today if you didn’t know it before. David must have mentioned that Devereaux was Catholic, too.”

He was silent for a while, and I thought he might not believe me. I was right. But I didn’t know how right until he spoke up again.

“I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he said. “I kept hoping you’d just tell me. I’m a cop, Dr. Blackburn. I’ve seen all kinds of things. It wouldn’t have surprised me.”

I didn’t understand his harsh tone, nor did I believe for a moment that the police were accustomed to having people say they had received information from ghosts. Not sane people. I gave him directions to the turnoff for the cabin, then asked, “Just exactly what did you mean by that last remark?”