He finished up his sandwich, wondering whether he should phone Marge to let her know of his plans, to give her the option of staying on as well. He didn’t want to interrupt anything, but he did want to keep her in the loop.

He caught her just as she and Will were leaving the restaurant, explaining the situation as succinctly as he could.

“He offered to take a polygraph?” she said.

“If I can set it up tomorrow around noon, he said he’d be there. You don’t have to stay on, but I figured I’d give you the option.”

“Of course I’ll stay. I’m as curious as you are. I’ll have to do a little rearranging, but I’m there, boss.”

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow morning around eight.”

“I suppose that’s better than waking up at five in the morning. Speaking of which, do you want to take care of the airline tickets or should I do it?”

“That’s right. We have to change the reservation. I’ll do it, Margie. I’ve got nothing else to do, and at this point, I know the eight-hundred number by heart.”

23

A T EIGHT O’CLOCK in the morning, Decker started making phone calls. By the time he had managed to find and secure a reputable polygraph examiner-now known as a forensic psychophysiologist or FP-schedule an exam, and obtain financing, his right ear was hot and his throat was scratchy from talking for almost two hours sans break.

The best that he could arrange under such short notice was a three P.M. test situation at the local D.A.’s office, the cost of the exam to be split between the West Valley substation and Roseanne’s parents. The Lodestones had no idea that their Rosie had done a little mischief on the side, but it didn’t matter to them. They were possessed-and rightly so-with finding Roseanne’s body. If there was evidence of foul play, the Lodestones were keen on finding Roseanne’s murderer. Ivan was still the Lodestones’ first choice for bad guy, but Raymond Holmes would make a decent runner-up should the facts and data point in his direction.

The scheduled time was much later than Holmes had anticipated. He balked, he screamed, and he cursed, but in the end, he showed up on time and without a lawyer. It took about twenty minutes for the FP-an innocuous-looking, gray-haired woman of sixty named Sheila Aronowitz-to set up the exam. After all the electrodes, cuffs, and straps were cinched across Holmes’s body-causing the contractor to remark that if he was going to be electrocuted, he wanted a last meal-Sheila insisted on talking to him before actually asking the questions. She needed to be sure that Holmes understood the mechanics of the machine, and what all the paraphernalia was about. She also insisted that Holmes have something to eat because she felt that a steady blood sugar level was necessary for optimal results.

The rapport building and snack time took a little over an hour.

When she felt they were both ready to take the plunge, she asked ten questions.

Is your name Raymond Holmes?

Are you married with three children?

Do you live in San Jose?

Do you work in San Jose?

Are you fifty-eight years old?

Did you know Roseanne Dresden?

Have you seen Roseanne within the last year?

Have you seen Roseanne Dresden within the last four months?

Did you have anything to do with Roseanne Dresden’s disappearance?

Did you murder Roseanne Dresden?

Decker, Marge, and a right-out-of-law-school deputy PD named Grant Begosian sat behind a one-way mirror watching Holmes pouring out a flood’s worth of sweat as he slugged through the ten simply stated questions. Decker knew that one of the measurements of a polygraph test was galvanic skin resistance, mainly the wetness off one’s fingertips. Holmes’s score on that indicator must have been off the scale even against a baseline question like Is your name Raymond Holmes?

It had been a while since Decker had witnessed a polygraph. Gone were the days of paper-loading, needle-dancing analog machines. These days polygraphs were digital, and as Sheila asked her questions, she regarded a laptop monitor, clicking on the keyboard at various intervals. The actual test didn’t take long. When it was over, she unhooked Holmes from the straps and the cuffs and the galvanometers. Meticulously, she gathered up her equipment as Holmes eyed her silently, dabbing his face with a sodden handkerchief. When she was a step out of the doorway, the contractor couldn’t contain himself. He blurted out the obvious question.

“How’d I do?”

Sheila smiled beatifically and said that she’d be back in a moment and asked if she could get him anything. Holmes opted for a cup of coffee and a croissant.

DECKER, MARGE, AND PD Grant Begosian were still staring at Holmes behind the one-way mirror, marveling at the production of the man’s sweat glands, when Sheila stepped into the interview room. The three of them raised their eyes in unison, directing their expectant gazes at the FP. Decker said, “How’d he do?”

She said, “You’ll just have to wait a moment. I don’t want to be precipitous in my conclusions.”

They waited as Sheila booted up her laptop and zeroed in on the polygraph. Her facial expressions were unreadable as she examined her data. She seemed to be perfectly comfortable working in silence as three people scrutinized her every movement. Eventually she sat back in her chair and looked up from the monitor.

“It is my opinion that Mr. Holmes was not being deceitful.”

Marge made a face. “He passed?”

“It is not a graded examination, Sergeant; it is a measurement of four involuntary physiological processes. I can’t vouch for the man’s credibility. All I can say is that from the measurements of his blood pressure, his heart rate, his respiratory rate, and his GSR, Mr. Holmes seems to have answered my questions in a nondeceitful manner.”

“On all ten questions,” Decker said.

Sheila smiled. “On nine questions actually. The only question that indicated a hint of deception-I’d have to rank it as inconclusive-was when I asked him if his name was Raymond Holmes. That’s not unusual. The first question, being as it is the first question, sometimes produces a surge of anxiety as measured by the physiological indicators no matter how much we try to put the examinee at ease.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Aronowitz.” Decker tried out a smile. “If Holmes is telling the truth, that’s good to know. We’ll direct our energies elsewhere.”

Deputy PD Begosian said, “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” The lawyer turned to Marge and Decker.

“My pleasure.” Sheila took out a piece of paper. “Who do I bill?”

Decker took the invoice and handed her his card. “I’ll take care of it. Call me if you have a problem and thank you.”

“In case you should need my services again.” She handed everyone a business card. As soon as Sheila left, the PD said, “Do you want to tell him the news or should I?”

Decker regarded Begosian, who looked way younger than his own daughter. He was too thin, too fresh, and too boyish for legal gravitas, but they all look that way in the beginning. If he stuck around long enough, he’d grow into the position. “I’d like to tell Mr. Holmes the good news, if that’s okay with you. I want to make sure there are no hard feelings. I may need him later on.”

“Be my guest.”

The two detectives entered the interview room, where Holmes was pacing nervously. “You can relax, sir,” Decker said. “I think we’re finally done.”

The contractor stopped treading the concrete. “Done as in done with the interview or done as in done harassing me.”

“The polygraph indicates that you haven’t been deceitful.” Decker held out his hand. “I really appreciate your total cooperation and I thank you again for your time.”

Holmes gave the gesture some thought, then wiped his right palm against his pants and shook hands. “I suppose you were only doing your job.”