No Escape Claws

Chapter 8

Rose drove in with me in the morning. “Alfred will be in later,” she said as she fastened her seat belt. Then she adjusted her sweater, smiled at Elvis and finally focused her attention on me. “You look like you want to say something. What is it?”

I did up my own seat belt and started the SUV. “Did anything Gram said last night about Judge Halloran change your opinion about Mike Pearson’s guilt?”

“No,” she said without any hesitation. “All we know is that the judge believed he saw Mike. I’m sure he told the police the truth from his perspective. That doesn’t mean he isn’t wrong.” She adjusted the large tote bag she’d set at her feet. “And for the record, I don’t have blinders on. I’m just trying to work with the facts we have at the moment.”

I pulled out of the driveway and from the corner of my eye I saw Rose pull a notebook and a pen from her bag. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m making a suspect list,” she said. “It was remiss of me not to have done so sooner. And yes, I am putting Mike’s name on it.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Alfred told me about that car accident Gina had. I think we should add the parents of that young girl she hit.”

I nodded in agreement. I didn’t have children but if someone had hurt Liam or Gram or Mom or any of them I wasn’t sure what I might do in anger.

“Alfred is still checking to make sure Gina didn’t have any other accidents.”

“Rose, do we know anyone who lives in that neighborhood?” I asked. When I said “we,” what I really meant was her and Liz and Charlotte.

The car in front of me slowed down and put its turn signal on. “Mrrr,” Elvis said beside me. The cat was a backseat driver no matter where he was sitting in the SUV. He looked over his shoulder when I backed up and checked traffic in both directions at every stop sign.

“I see it,” I said.

“Are you looking to talk to the Pearsons’ neighbors?” Rose asked.

I shot her a quick glance. “I thought we might get a better sense of what kind of marriage they had. Which might work in my favor or might work in yours.”

“I’ll ask around,” she said.

When we got to Second Chance, Mr. P. was waiting by the back door. If Mac hadn’t been in Boston I’m sure we would have found the two of them having coffee. Ever since we’d made the small apartment for Mac up on the second floor above the shop, I’d gotten used to arriving to the coffeepot being on and Mac waiting with a cup for me. It was a chance to go over the upcoming day and talk about longer-term plans for the shop. Now it was usually me who made the coffee and the conversation was with Elvis. He wasn’t much for long-term planning.

“I thought you were coming in later,” Rose said.

“We could have picked you up.” I set Elvis down and unlocked the back door.

“It’s all right,” Mr. P. said, taking Rose’s bag from her. “Sammy dropped me off.” He held the door open for us and I gestured for Rose to go ahead of me.

“What were you doing with Sam?” Rose asked.

I’d been wondering the same thing. Sam Newman was like another father to me. He’d been my biological father’s best friend. Over the years he’d told me stories and shared photos of my dad, helping to keep him alive. Sam was also the reason I had Elvis. I’d stopped in to see him and discovered him and the cat having breakfast.

“Who’s your friend?” I asked.

“That’s Elvis,” Sam said.

“Why Elvis?”

Sam shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to like the Stones, so naming him Mick was kinda out of the question.”

Mr. P. was smiling. I recognized that expression. He’d learned something. “I have another possible suspect in Gina Pearson’s death. A man named Gavin Pace.”

“What’s the connection?” I asked.

“Gavin Pace and Gina Pearson had an affair.”

“Good heavens,” Rose said. “When did this happen?”

“Sometime after her second trip to rehab.” Mr. P. flipped on the lights. “They worked together before Gina lost her job.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “How does Sam tie in to all of this?”

“It seems that Gavin Pace’s wife, Molly—actually, ex-wife now—had some kind of confrontation with Gina at The Black Bear just a few days before the fire. I went to see Sam to ask him about it.” Mr. P. nudged his glasses up his nose. “And if you’re thinking that Gina was drunk, Sam says she wasn’t. According to Sam, Gina was minding her own business and the other woman accosted her.”

“How did you find out all of this?” I asked as we stepped into the store proper.”

He smiled. “Gina Pearson’s former coworkers are very talkative.”

“I don’t suppose anyone mentioned Molly Pace threatening to kill Gina, did they?” Rose asked.

Alfred shook his head. “No, but she did threaten to kill her husband in front of half a dozen witnesses.”

“Interesting,” Rose said, heading for the stairs. It was pretty clear Molly Pace would be going on her list.

• • •

It turned out to be a busy morning. I sold a 1973 Martin D-18 guitar that I’d bought from Clayton McNamara when we’d cleared out his house. The guitar needed work. There was a pick guard scratch and a small back crack, but I felt that I’d given the buyer a decent deal and made a fair profit for myself. I was just about to head upstairs for a late lunch when a woman came in the front door. She stopped and looked around.

“Hi,” I said. “Could I help you with something?”

She looked to be in her early forties with dark hair worn in a short bob and black framed, nerd chic glasses. “I’m looking for Charlotte Elliot,” the woman said. “Is she here?”

Charlotte was in the workroom sorting through the box of fabric we’d found at the storage unit. She’d already come in once to show me a couple of 1960s vintage aprons, which had made Avery’s eyes light up.

“She is,” I said. “I’ll go get her for you.”

She gave me a tight smile. “Thank you,” she said.

Charlotte was at the workbench. She had two tea towel calendars spread out next to the aprons. “Look at this, Sarah,” she said. “They’re from 1964 and 1967. I had this same one from 1967 in my kitchen when I was first married.”

The linen dish towel featured a large orange, green, and yellow rooster atop the months of the year. I was guessing it had been meant more for kitchen décor than for drying dishes.

“Someone will want that,” I said. Anything that triggered memories of childhood or the early years of marriage was popular with our customers. I gestured over my shoulder. “There’s a woman here to see you.”

“Who is it?” Charlotte asked.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I forgot to ask her name.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “It’s probably one of the parents. I think I told you we’re having a book sale at the school next month.”

I nodded as we headed for the door. “Why don’t you take that box of books that we brought back from the storage place. I mean if you want them. We don’t really sell that many books here.” As Gram had suspected A Bear Called Paddington had turned out to be a valuable first edition, but the rest of the books were only worth a few dollars each.

Charlotte smiled. “If you’re sure, yes. I’d be happy to take them.”

She was still smiling as she approached the woman, who had taken only a couple of steps into the store. “Hello,” Charlotte said. “I’m Charlotte Elliot. You were looking for me?”

The other woman nodded. “I’m Katy Mueller.” She offered her name as though it should mean something to Charlotte. From the slightly confused expression on Charlotte’s face I could see it didn’t.

Katy Mueller could see it, too. She cleared her throat. “Gina Pearson was my best friend.”

“You’re here because of Mallory,” Charlotte said.

The younger woman nodded. “And Greg and Austin. They’re just starting to heal. Nothing good is going to come out of stirring up the past.” She twisted the bottom edge of her sleeve with one hand. “Please. Let Mallory down easy and stop your investigation.”

“It must have been very painful to lose Gina,” Charlotte said. The concern in her voice was genuine.

“Not as painful as it was for the children. Please. What you’re doing isn’t helping anyone.”

Charlotte nodded. “You care about them.”

“Of course I do,” Katy said, as though she were offended that anyone would think any differently.

“Then you can understand better than a lot of people why it’s so important to Mallory to help her father.”

Katy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know Mallory doesn’t want to believe that Mike left Gina to die in that fire and I’m not saying he wanted that to happen, but he’d given her so many second chances I just don’t think he had it in him anymore. And you must have heard about Judge Halloran. He certainly had no reason to lie about what he saw.”

“What was Gina like?” Charlotte asked. “I didn’t really get a sense of her as a person from Mallory.”

“Gina was the only mother Mallory really knew. Her own mother died when she was barely more than a toddler. They were very close until Gina started drinking.” Katy stared off into space just past Charlotte’s right shoulder as though she was looking for something in the past. Then her gaze came back to Charlotte. “We met in our senior year of high school. I used to call her Goldie because she was one of those golden people for whom everything went right. She fell in love with Mike and he was crazy about her. And Mallory adored her. There was no wicked stepmother stuff. Then she had the boys. And she had a job she really liked. She had everything.” She looked away again. “I tried to make her understand that.”

“You were a good friend,” Charlotte said, her voice gentle as though she were trying to get close to a skittish animal.

Katy shook her head. “It was after she got promoted at work that everything went wrong. She worried about every little detail. She’d come home so stressed out and she started having a couple of drinks to relax. Pretty soon it was more than two. I kept trying to find the right words that would make her realize what she was doing to her children but she only cared about her next drink.” She narrowed her gaze at Charlotte. “You’re not going to stop this, are you?” she asked, her expression troubled.

“No,” Charlotte said. “Mallory asked for my help. I’m sorry. I can’t just walk away from her.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Katy’s voice was shaky. She lifted a hand and then let it drop. “I have to go.” She was out the door before Charlotte could say anything more.

I put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” I asked. Katy’s reaction had been unsettling.

She nodded. “I’m fine. But I don’t think Gina’s friend is.”

We started back toward the workroom. “She seems very . . .” It took me a moment to come up with the right word. “Wounded.”

“Did you see her face when she spoke about Mallory and her brothers?” Charlotte asked. “It was the only time she even came close to smiling. She obviously cares about them.”

“You care about Mallory, too,” I said. “That’s why you’re trying to figure out what really happened to Gina.”

“So you don’t think this investigation is a mistake?” There was a hint of both a question and a challenge in her voice.

“I never thought it was a mistake,” I said. “I didn’t—I don’t want to see those children hurt because it’s hard to look at what we know about Mike Pearson’s case and not think that he may have killed his wife. He had motive and he had opportunity.” I held up a hand because I knew there was an objection coming. “At least, it’s hard for me. But you’re a good judge of character and so is Rose and don’t get me started on exactly how the stars aligned so that she and Nick are working together.”

Charlotte smiled.

“The thing is, Mallory and her brothers deserve the truth and maybe it will bring their dad home.” I felt like I’d just given a speech.

“I hope so,” Charlotte said. She took a step closer to me and lowered her voice. “And I’m glad I’m not the only one who finds Rose and Nick on the same side a little disconcerting. Sometimes I have the feeling I’ve fallen into a parallel universe.”

I grinned at her. “Don’t worry. There’s no way it can last.”

Charlotte grinned back at me. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing!”

I gave her a hug and went back to the shop. Avery was arranging a collection of flowerpots—the ones Liz had asked me about—in the center of a long wooden trestle table. This was her latest project. She’d painted the terra-cotta pots with a flat black paint, then used spray adhesive to randomly fasten cheesecloth to them. Avery had followed with a coat of metallic gold paint. When the cheesecloth was removed the pots were left with a black-veined design highlighted against the gold. They made an elegant collection on the dark tabletop.

“I’m just going upstairs to grab a cup of coffee,” I said to Avery. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sure,” she said, lifting a hand but not even turning in my direction. All of her focus was on the table. I could have told her I was going to put on tap shoes and do a dance routine in the parking lot and she would have nodded absently and said sure.

I was adding sugar to my coffee when my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen. It was Liz.

“Hi, toots,” she said when I answered.

“Toots?” I asked.

“It’s a perfectly good word,” Liz retorted. “Which I’m not debating you on right now. What are you wearing?”

I leaned against the counter. “My bathrobe and slippers.”

“Don’t get saucy with me, missy,” she said.

“Why do you care what I’m wearing?” I asked.

“Because we have an appointment with Judge Halloran at four o’clock.”

I sighed. “Please don’t tell me that you think he can be swayed by a pretty face.”

Liz gave a snort of laughter. “I’m perfectly capable of charming Neill Halloran if that’s what’s called for, thank you very much. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t wearing jeans and a sweatshirt because you were cleaning out that storage unit. I didn’t think you’d want to go see the man if you were dressed like a hobo.”

“I’m not dressed like a hobo,” I said. “I’m wearing black pants and the red shirt I bought when we were in Boston.”

“That’s fine then,” she said. “I’ll be there at quarter to four.”

“Why are we going to see the judge?”

“You’d rather Rose and Nicolas went to visit him?”

I couldn’t help grinning. “They do seem to be a pretty good team at the moment.”

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious,” Liz said. “I’ll see you later. Wear lipstick.” She ended the call before I had a chance to say anything else.

It was exactly three forty-five when Liz walked into the shop. Since I’d talked to her I’d also learned that she’d arranged for Rose and Charlotte to close the store if we weren’t back in time. Rose came down the stairs and handed me a small cardboard container, tied with red-striped twine. “The cookies,” she said. “Don’t forget to tell Judge Halloran that they came from Isabel.”

“Maybe you should go instead of me,” I said.

She shook her head. “The judge went to school with your grandmother. That kind of connection matters to him. And he and Liz were on the board of directors at the theater. You two are the right choice.”

“Wait a minute—did you organize this meeting?” I asked.

“I may have suggested to Liz that she was the best person to go see Judge Halloran.”

I knew that quasi-innocent look on her face.

I narrowed my gaze at her. “And did you also suggest that I should go along as her sidekick?”

She gave an offhand shrug. “Actually I suggested myself.”

Which pretty much guaranteed that Liz would ask me to go with her.

“You are a devious little woman,” I said.

“I guess sometimes I am,” she said with a self-satisfied smile. It seemed I’d given her a compliment.

“You can drive,” Liz said, tossing her keys in my direction as we stepped out the back door. “And no comments about Driving Miss Daisy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I managed to swallow down a grin.

“So where are we going?” I asked after I’d fastened my seat belt and started the car.

“Bayview Street,” Liz said. She held the box of cookies on her lap.

“There aren’t any houses on Bayview Street,” I said, adjusting the rearview mirror.

“We’re going to the judge’s office. Remember where Swift Holdings’ offices were?”

I nodded. Liz and I had had a meeting once with Daniel Swift at his very impressive office. He’d tried to intimidate her. It hadn’t gone well.

For him.

“It’s the same building,” Liz said.

“I can get us there,” I said.

The three-story office building was located almost at the end of Bayview Street, at the far end of the harbor. There was no boardwalk on this end of the waterfront, no businesses catering to tourists, no slips for harbor cruises or kayak rentals. We pulled into the parking lot just a few minutes before four o’clock.

The receptionist at the judge’s law office was a young woman whom I guessed was in her early twenties. She was conservatively dressed in a simple navy blue dress but the deep fuchsia streak in her fair hair suggested there were more layers to her personality. “Hello, Mrs. French,” she said. “I’ll let Judge Halloran’s assistant know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” Liz said, a glint of approval in her eye. The fact that the young woman knew who she was had made a good impression.

The young woman gestured toward a grouping of several chairs around a low wooden coffee table. “Please have a seat.”

We sat but we weren’t there for long. A middle-aged man appeared from the hallway to the right of the reception desk. He crossed the floor to us and smiled at Liz, offering his hand. “Mrs. French? I’m Henry Davis,” he said. “I’m Judge Halloran’s assistant. We spoke on the phone.”

Henry Davis was maybe two or three inches taller than my five foot six. He had dark skin and dark eyes. His head was shaved smooth and he had a closely cropped beard and mustache.

Liz shook his hand then turned toward me. “This is my friend Sarah Grayson.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Grayson,” he said. We shook hands as well and then he indicated the hallway. “Come on back to the judge’s office.”

I stepped back to let Liz go ahead of me. She was running the show, so to speak. She reached for her purse, which she’d left on the chair when she stood up.

“Thank you for putting your influence and your money behind something that’s so important to Judge Halloran,” Henry Davis said.

What?

I put a hand on Liz’s shoulder as she straightened up. “Is there something I should know?” I asked just under my breath. Davis was already halfway across the reception area.

Liz adjusted the scarf at her neck. “Just roll with it,” she murmured.

I didn’t really have a lot of other options.

I had been expecting Judge Neill Halloran to be a large, imposing man given how people had talked about him, but in reality he was of average height with thinning hair, wire-framed glasses and two discreet hearing aids. He had keen blue eyes that took in everything and a serious expression that was chased away when he smiled, which he did when Liz and I walked in to his office.

The office had a lot of the trappings I would have expected from a lawyer’s office: wood paneling three-quarters of the way up the walls, a large credenza under the windows behind the desk, and two chocolate-brown leather chairs for visitors. But there was also a large fish tank on the wall to the left of the desk, which was a modern curve of wood, metal and glass.

“Elizabeth French, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Neill Halloran said.

There was a small circular table and two chairs to the right of the office door. The table held a laptop, a yellow legal pad and two mechanical pencils. Henry Davis wrote something on the pad before sitting down at the computer.

“It’s good to see you, as well, Neill,” Liz said. She indicated me. “Neill, this is Sarah Grayson. I want to put together a book on the history of the Emmerson Foundation. Sarah is helping me with the research.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Judge Halloran,” I said, shaking his hand. He had large hands and a firm handshake.

“I brought Sarah with me to introduce her personally because she may have a few questions for you at some point.” Liz smiled. “I didn’t realize you were a board member many years ago.”

The judge returned her smile. “Your grandfather could be a very persuasive man.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “I would have said stubborn as a mule, but I appreciate your tact.”

“Your grandfather did not take no for an answer.”

So that’s where Liz got her stubborn streak.

As if she could read my mind Liz shot me a warning glare. I gave her my best innocent smile.

“Neill, Sarah is Isabel Grayson’s granddaughter,” Liz said.

His smile got even wider. “How is Isabel?” he asked. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. I heard she got married again.”

“She’s well,” I said. “And yes, she did get married. She just got back from a very extended honeymoon.” I held out the box of cookies. “She sent these for you.”

He took the box and opened the note Gram had attached to the top. Bringing the cookies had made me feel a bit like we were trying to manipulate the judge, but he seemed so genuinely pleased to get them and Gram’s note that I was reconsidering. He peeked inside and then looked at me. “Please thank your grandmother for the cookies and tell her that I would love to get together.”

“I will,” I promised.

He turned to Liz. “Now, how am I going to be able to say no to your book project?”

She laughed. “I’m hoping you’ll find it pretty much impossible, but if all it takes is cookies I’ll be happy to”—she paused—“buy you some.”

The judge laughed.

Liz was flirting. Not the first time she’d done that to get information. She reached into her bag then and handed him an envelope.

He opened it, pulled out a check and his eyes widened. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” he said. “That’s very generous of you.”

I glanced around the office, looking for a clue to this mysterious project.

“Well, I don’t want to see all of North Harbor’s past disappear, either,” Liz said.

Okay, so the project had something to do with the town’s history. That really didn’t narrow things down a lot. “Do you mind if I ask how you got involved in this project in the first place?” I asked the judge.

“Not at all,” he said. He gestured at the chairs in front of his desk. “I’ve forgotten my manners. Please, sit down.”

Liz and I took a seat and Judge Halloran moved back behind his desk. He sat down, leaned back in his chair and looked at me thoughtfully. “I guess the real reason I got involved is because I’ve always had a soft spot for the old library building. My mother would take my brother and me to get a week’s worth of books every Saturday after lunch.”

So the project had something to do with the former library building, which I knew was about to be torn down. It had deteriorated so much over the years that it just wasn’t structurally sound anymore, but it would be sad to see it turned into a pile of rubble.

“I understand that it’s not possible to save every old building, nor should we. But I hate the idea that the sunflower window would leave town or even worse, the country,” he said.

The sunflower window was a round stained glass window that had been in the old library from the time it was built in the late 1800s. It had gotten the name from the different varieties of yellow glass in the flowerlike design. I’d heard that there was someone in Singapore interested in buying the window. Like the judge, I’d spent many happy Saturday afternoons during summer vacation in that building. I didn’t want to see the window leave town either.

“When I was little I liked to stand in the colored patches of light on the floor,” I said, smiling at the memory.

“I very much wish they had moved the window when they built the new library,” he said. “That was the original plan.”

“So why didn’t they?” Liz asked.

The judge shook his head. “There was some concern about removing it safely. I think part of the reason was also that it didn’t fit with the vision the library board at the time had for the space. But hopefully we’ll be able to match the offer that’s already been made for the window and find it a new home here in North Harbor.”

“I hope so,” I said. It struck me that this was a project Liam needed to get involved with.

Judge Halloran tapped the envelope Liz had given him with one finger. “You know Sarah, I think you should work into this book project of Elizabeth’s how much she’s done for North Harbor that no one actually knows about.”

“I like that idea,” I said, shifting in my chair to grin at Liz. “I may need some details from you, however.”

“You’re a fine one to talk, Neill Halloran,” Liz said tartly. “You’re far more modest than I am. Do you remember what my grandfather used to say? Don’t hide your light under a bushel.”

She looked at me and gestured across the desk at the judge. “Neill is the driving force behind the building of the outdoor ice rink and he funded the hot lunch program for the entire first year until it got on its feet.”

The hot lunch program in the elementary school was one of my pet projects thanks to Gram. I knew someone had kept it running through the bumpy first year but I had no idea it had been Judge Halloran. Given that he had a soft spot for my grandmother, it made sense.

He inclined his head in Liz’s direction. “A word of warning, if Elizabeth knows your secrets they aren’t going to be secrets for long.”

I laughed. “Liz has known me since I was a baby so I don’t have any secrets at all.”

Liz’s expression grew serious now. “Are you still involved with Haven House?” she asked.

Haven House. That was the name of the treatment center Gina Pearson had been waiting to be admitted to, and had been to before.

“You really do know all my secrets,” the judge said. I noticed just a touch of wariness in his voice.

“Years ago, Michael Pearson was a summer student at the foundation,” Liz said. “I suspect you pulled some strings to get a place at Haven House for his wife just before she died.”

“I’m sure you know that I’m the one who told the police that I saw Michael walking away from their burning house.” He took hold of the frames of his glasses. “For the record, I need these only for close work. My long-distance vision is fine.”

Liz adjusted her own glasses. “I need mine only when I need to see,” she said lightly.

He smiled.

“Michael Pearson is a good man.”

“I know that,” Judge Halloran said. “We were neighbors for five years. He loaned me his leaf-blower when mine stopped working. Two winters ago, when I broke my wrist, he kept my steps and driveway clear and he wouldn’t take five cents for doing it. I didn’t take any pleasure in telling the police what I saw.” He held up a hand as though trying to forestall any objections Liz might have. “Mike was wearing the ball cap Gina had given him. I recognized him and that hat. He wore it all the time. It was a replica of the 1956 red and blue cap that the American team wore in Melbourne at the Olympics. Baseball was a demonstration sport that year. He was wearing it earlier in the day when we talked about Gina. He was wearing it that evening when he walked away from the house.”

“Did you use your connections to get Gina into Haven House?”

“I told Mike I would see what I could do. They found a bed for her. She would have left the morning following the fire.”

Gina Pearson had been so close to a chance to turn her life around. I had to swallow down the lump that was suddenly in the back of my throat.

Liz sighed softly.

The judge leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “Elizabeth, if you have the idea that you can somehow help Mike Pearson, you’re taking on a losing battle.”

Liz looked at him for a long moment and I wasn’t sure if she was going to say anything. “Thank you, Neill,” was all she finally said. She got to her feet and extended her hand. “I’ll see what I can do to generate more support for saving the sunflower window.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. He came around the desk, took my hand in both of his and smiled. “It was a pleasure, Isabel.” He hesitated for a second then shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just for a moment you reminded me so much of your grandmother.”

“I’m honored by the comparison,” I said.

“If I can be of any help with your book project please call Henry,” he said. “He takes care of my schedule.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

Henry Davis was already on his feet. He handed me his card. “That has my direct number,” he said. “Please call me if there’s anything you need from Judge Halloran.”

I thanked him and we left.

“You lied to me,” I said to Liz once we were in the elevator.

“No. I just didn’t tell you everything.”

“I could have messed up everything.”

“You didn’t,” she said as the elevator doors opened to the main floor.

“Why all the elaborate subterfuge?” I asked as we headed for the door.

“Do you really think Henry Davis would have given us an appointment in this century if I’d told him I wanted to question the judge about whether or not he saw what he says he saw the night of that fire?”

I shook my head. “No. He probably wouldn’t have.”

“So I did what I had to.”

“It was nice of you to write a check for that fund-raising campaign to save the old library window,” I said.

“I think it would be a shame to see it end up halfway around the world. It’s a piece of our history.”

We were approaching the car. I pulled out the keys to unlock the doors. “It occurred to me that Liam might be able to help in some way. You want me to talk to him?”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Liz said, pointing at me with one finger.

“I’ll see what he says and get him to call you.” I slid behind the wheel and started the car, then turned to look at Liz. “The judge’s ID seems pretty solid to me. He lived next to Mike for years. It wasn’t like he forgot his glasses. He even recognized Mike’s hat. Where do we go from here?”

Liz shook her head. “Damned if I know,” she said.