He acted it out, pretending to fall backward, his index finger serving as the barrel of a pretend pistol. As he went back, his aim moved to a spot high on the wall, far above Duncan’s head.

“Could that happen?” Duncan asked. “A reflex like that at the moment your heart is blown to hell?”

Brooks crammed the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth. “I’ve seen fatal bullet wounds with even more bizarre explanations. You wouldn’t believe how far-fetched.”

“So what are you telling me?”

“I’m telling you that anything can happen, Detective. But lucky for me, it’s your job to find out what actually did.”

“I’ve put them in the sunroom, Mrs. Laird.”

“That’s fine.”

Mrs. Berry had come upstairs to inform her that the same detectives who’d been at the house the night before were downstairs and had asked to see her. “Could you please bring in some refreshments? Diet Coke and iced tea.”

The formidable housekeeper nodded. “Shall I tell them you’ll be right down?”

“Please.”

Elise shut the bedroom door, then stood there, wondering what questions the detectives would be asking today.

Hadn’t they believed her last night?

If they had, they wouldn’t be back today, would they?

Loose ends, Detective Hatcher had said. The term could cover any number of inconsequential nagging details. Or it could be an understatement for discrepancies of major importance.

She feared the latter.

That’s what had prompted her to go see Savich this morning. It had been risky, but she’d wanted to contact him as soon as possible, and using the telephone could have been even chancier than driving to his place of business. She didn’t trust that the home telephone would not be tapped, and cell phone calls could be traced.

Cato had got up at his normal time and quietly dressed for work. She’d pretended to be asleep until he left the bedroom. Then, as soon as his car had cleared the driveway, she had dressed quickly and left the house, hoping to complete the errand and return home before Mrs. Berry arrived for the day.

Keeping a watchful eye in the rearview mirror, she’d been confident that no one had followed her. Despite her haste, she had heeded the speed limits, not wanting to be stopped for a traffic ticket that she would have to explain to Cato.

She had returned home only minutes ahead of the housekeeper and had remained in her bedroom ever since, pacing, playing over in her mind the events of the previous night, trying to decide what her next course of action should be.

Detective Bowen and Duncan Hatcher were waiting for her downstairs. She dreaded the interview, but further delay would look suspicious. She went to her dressing table, gathered her hair into a ponytail, considered changing clothes, then decided not to take the time. She picked up a tube of lip gloss, but changed her mind about that, too. Detective Bowen would find fault with her vanity, and Duncan Hatcher…

What did he think of her? she wondered. Really think of her.

She deliberated that for several precious moments, then, before she could talk herself out of it, did one thing more before leaving the bedroom.

The sunroom was a glass-enclosed portion of the terrace, floored in Pennsylvania bluestone, furnished with wicker pieces that had floral print cushions. Mrs. Berry was better with plants than with people. Ferns and palms and other potted tropicals flourished under her care.

When Elise entered the room, DeeDee Bowen was seated in one of the chairs facing the door. Duncan was standing at the wall of windows looking out over the terrace and swimming pool, seemingly captivated by the fountain at the center of it.

Detective Bowen stood up. “Hello, Mrs. Laird. We apologize for showing up unannounced. Is this an inconvenient time?”

“Not at all.”

Upon hearing her name, Duncan turned away from the window. Elise glanced at him, then came into the room and joined Detective Bowen in the sitting area.

“Mrs. Berry will be here shortly with something to drink,” she said, motioning Detective Bowen back into her chair, then sat down in one facing it.

“That’ll be nice. It’s so hot out.”

“Yes.”

Having exhausted the topic of the weather, they lapsed into an awkward silence. Elise was aware of Duncan, still standing near the window, watching her. She resisted looking in his direction.

Finally Bowen said, “We have a few more questions.”

“Before leaving last night you implied that you would.”

“Just a few things we’d like to clear up.”

“I understand.”

“Overnight, did you think of anything you left out? Something that may have slipped your mind?”

“No.”

“That can happen in stressful situations.” The woman smiled at her. “I’ve had people call me in the middle of the night, suddenly remembering a detail they’d forgotten.”

“I told you what I remembered exactly as I remembered it.”

The soft rattle of glassware announced the arrival of a serving cart, pushed into the room by Mrs. Berry. “Shall I serve, Mrs. Laird?” Her voice was as chilly as the condensation on the ice bucket. Elise wasn’t sure if she was disdainful of their guests, or her. Probably both.

“No, thank you.” Welcoming a chance to move and get out from under the scrutiny of the detectives, she left her chair and approached the cart. “I believe you prefer Diet Coke, Detective Bowen?”

“Sounds great.”

Elise poured the cola over a glass of ice and carried it to her. She accepted it with an easy smile, which Elise instantly mistrusted. Then she turned and looked up at Duncan Hatcher. His eyes were still on her. Unblinking. Intent. “Something for you?”

He glanced at the cart. “Is that tea?”

“It’s sweetened. Mrs. Berry thinks that’s the only way to make it.”

“That’s the only way my mom makes it, too. Sweetened is fine.” His smile was as easy as DeeDee Bowen’s, but Elise trusted it even less. It never reached his eyes.

She wondered if the decision she’d made before coming downstairs was a foolhardy one.

Of course, it would have been more foolhardy not to do anything.

She poured Duncan Hatcher a glass of iced tea and was passing it to him when Cato strode into the room. “Apparently I didn’t receive the memo.”

Chapter 6

“OR DID YOU JUST HAPPEN TO BE IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD?” the judge added with less civility.

Yep, he’s angry, DeeDee thought. Just as Duncan had predicted he would be once he learned that they’d questioned his wife-or tried to-without his being present. They had the right to, of course, but had agreed to avoid ruffling the judge’s feathers if at all possible.

Mrs. What’s-her-name, the housekeeper, must have called him immediately upon their arrival, probably even before she went upstairs to tell Elise Laird they were here. It was clear that the domestic’s loyalty lay with the judge and that she seemed to have little regard for his missus.

Elise offered to pour her husband a glass of tea.

“No, thank you.” He kissed her on the lips, then pulled back and stroked her cheek. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine.”

“Still shaken?”

“I think I will be for a while.”

“Understandable.”

He guided her down onto the settee that was barely wide enough to accommodate both of them, pulled her hand onto his knee, and covered it with his. “What would you like to know?”

DeeDee saw Duncan ’s jaw tense. He said, “I’d like to know if you want to call a lawyer before we begin. We’ll be happy to wait until one arrives.”

The judge replied crisply, “That won’t be necessary. But to show up here unannounced was a cheap trick and, frankly, beneath you, Detective Hatcher.”

“My apologies to you and to Mrs. Laird.” Duncan sat down in one of the wicker armchairs facing the couple. “The name of the man who died in your study last night was Gary Ray Trotter.”