„How long did Timothy work here?“ Kristen asked and Vincent scratched his head.
„Well, I’ve been here for fifteen years. Owen bought the place about three years ago and hired Timothy about a year later. Anyway, you want some pie? I made it this morning.“
„You twisted my arm, Vincent.“
Vincent grinned his slow grin. „With ice cream?“
„Of course.“
Vincent was heaping scoops of vanilla on her pie when the little bell on the glass door jangled. Kristen shivered at the blast of cold air at her back, then glanced over her shoulder when Vincent slowly lowered the ice-cream dipper and stared. Kristen stared, too, needing a minute to process the face above the calf-length fur coat that seemed out of place in a diner whose seats were cracked vinyl. Then realization clicked.
„Sara?“ John’s wife. Oh, God, she thought, looking at Sara Alden’s stricken face and thinking the worst. „What’s wrong? What’s happened to John?“
Sara unbuttoned her coat with cool grace. „Can we talk privately, Kristen?“
„Of course.“ She led her boss’s wife to a booth in the corner.
Sitting, Sara abruptly asked, „Why did you think something was wrong with John?“
„You went to a lot of trouble to find me here. I just assumed… How did you find me?“
„Lois said you might be here. She said you were out of the office indefinitely.“
Kristen felt the sting, deep inside. „Yes, that’s true.“
„John is responsible.“ Sara’s eyes flashed with anger.
Bewildered, Kristen shook her head. „No, John’s boss made the call. John said he tried to keep him from putting me on leave, but Milt was determined.“
Sara’s lips curled. „Yeah, I’ll just bet John tried real hard.“
Kristen wasn’t sure how to respond to that. „Sara, what’s going on here?“
„Lieutenant Spinnelli’s office called this morning. A Detective Murphy said they were confirming alibis for everyone in John’s department for the nights those men were murdered. He asked about John.“
„That’s true, but it’s standard procedure. Lieutenant Spinnelli’s just making sure that they’ve looked at everyone who was involved in all those old cases. Is that what you’re worried about, Sara? I can tell you, nobody suspects John. He’s not involved in murder.“
„He lied,“ Sara said flatly. „John told Spinnelli’s man that he was home in bed with me. But he lied. He was with another woman. He thinks I sleep, but I know when he’s gone.“
Kristen sat back and drew a deep breath. John was on Spinnelli’s list of sharpshooters. She knew that. She’d also dismissed it as soon as she’d seen his name on the list. Not once had she entertained the notion that John Alden could be involved in murder. John went to great lengths to follow procedure. To ensure all the statutes were followed, that every convicted man was convicted legally. He was a good prosecutor.
But apparently a bad husband.
„Oh, Sara.“ To her dismay Sara’s eyes filled with tears. „I wish I knew what to say.“
Sara dug into her purse for a handkerchief. „He actually expected me to lie for him.“
„Did you?“
„No.“ Sara glared through her tears. „Well, not exactly. I told Detective Murphy that John never came to bed that night, that I couldn’t say for sure where he was.“
„But you know where he was?“ Kristen asked gently.
Sara pulled her fur collar high on her neck, gathering her composure. „He’s talked in his sleep for years, Kristen. He says all kinds of things. Sometimes things I shouldn’t hear, but I’ve been a good wife all these years and haven’t shared any of his confidences.“
Kristen’s eyes widened at the implications. „He talks about cases in his sleep?“
„Among other things.“
„He said the other woman’s name in his sleep?“
„He did. Have you wondered how Zoe Richardson found out about the letters addressed to you, Kristen? About how he signs the letters ‘Your Humble Servant’?“ Kristen’s mouth fell open. „He muttered about it,“ Sara said softly, „in his sleep, a few nights after all this started, so I’ve known. So did Zoe Richardson.“
Kristen swallowed, connecting the dots but still unable to believe the picture. „He’s having an affair with Zoe Richardson? John? John Alden? My boss?“
„Your boss. My husband. Richardson’s not his first, Kristen. But this is different. You’re in danger and it’s because that woman plastered your face all over the news as some kind of link to this killer. I know about Friday night and Sunday night. You’ve been attacked twice.“
Kristen pressed her fingers to her lips, her brain reeling. „I…“ She met Sara’s eyes across the table. „Why didn’t you call him on the cheating before?“
Sara lifted a shoulder, misery in her eyes. „I was humiliated, so I let it go.“
„Until now.“ Kristen closed her eyes under the enormity of it all.
„I won’t lie for him, Kristen. And he should pay for what he’s done to you. The night you found the first letters, in your trunk? You tried to call him. Three times.“
„He didn’t have his phone on.“
„Because he was with her. He came home in the middle of the night, sneaking in like the dog he is. Took a shower, thinking I was sound asleep. I turned his phone back on, listened to his messages. Then I deleted them so he wouldn’t know what I’d done.“
„He was mad at the phone service for losing his messages,“ Kristen remembered, her mind still reeling. „He was mad at me for not calling him.“
Sara slid out of the booth. „Perhaps he’ll be taking a ‘vacation’ soon, too.“
Kristen watched her go, sighed, then took out her cell phone and dialed Spinnelli.
Tuesday, February 24,
5:30 P.M.
„Come in, sit down.“
Abe looked around the little apartment owned by Grayson James. There was a small fireplace with a mantel upon which rested several trophies, all for marksmanship. „Thank you for taking time to talk to us, Mr. James.“
„Diana said you’d be coming. She said you’re interested in maker’s marks.“ He put a small lamp on the kitchen table and flipped it on. „Let’s have the bullet.“
For the sixth and final time that day Mia drew out the plastic bag holding the bullet. No one else on Diana’s list had been able to help them.
„Can I touch it?“ James asked.
„By all means,“ Abe said and watched the old man handle the bullet with deft fingers. James held the bullet under the light.
Then sat down slowly. „Where did you get this?“ he asked.
Mia looked at Abe, a new energy in her eyes. „You’ve seen it?“
„I have. More years ago than I’d like to remember.“ For a long moment, James stared at the bullet, his face taking on a faraway expression. Then he blinked and gave the bullet back to Mia. „I had a friend when I was a boy, back before the War. He and I would shoot together at his father’s cabin.
His father made his own bullets, taught us to do it, too. That was his mark. I’d never seen it before and never seen it since. Where did you find it?“
„Your friend, Mr. James,“ Abe said as calmly as he could. „Can we talk to him?“
James’s lips thinned. „Not unless you’re into séances. Hank Worth died at Iwo Jima in 1944.“
Mia exhaled, her disappointment as palpable as his own. „Any surviving children?“
„Nope. He was only eighteen when we joined up. Look, I’ve helped you. The least you can do is tell me where you found this bullet. You’re detectives, so whatever it is, it can’t be good. I hate to see someone tarnishing Hank’s memory. He was my friend.“
Abe hesitated. „I can’t give you details, Mr. James, but we’re homicide detectives. This bullet was used in an attempted homicide.“