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There is another burst of color on the night.

Sudden.

Catching the eye.

And then disappearing again.

It is very definitely a man, tall and broad-shouldered, very definitely an American man. Tran himself is slender and slight, his physique not uncommon in a nation where the average height for a grown man is a bit more than five feet and his weight some fifty-five kilos. The man running toward the house where the three men live is easily six feet tall…

Matthew’s heart begins sinking…

And he weighs at least ninety kilos…

Which Matthew calculates at two point two pounds per kilo for a total of two hundred pounds…

And he is wearing a yellow hat and a yellow jacket…

And Matthew’s heart sinks entirely.

“… going into the house,” Mai Chim translates, “where the three men were found murdered the next morning, do you know?”

Matthew knew.

4

Monday morning, the twentieth day of August, dawned hot and humid and hazy. Matthew awoke with the sun at ten minutes past seven and was in his pool swimming laps when the telephone rang. He swam over to the steps, picked up the modular phone, hit the talk button, and said, “Hello?” It could not have been later than a quarter to eight.

“Mr. Hope? It’s me. Andrew. I have that information you wanted.”

“Yes, Andrew, go ahead.”

“Running time of Casablanca is a hundred and three minutes. That’s an hour and forty-three minutes, sir.”

“Yes, Andrew.”

Leeds had told him they’d started watching the tape after dinner. He wondered now if Jessica had watched it all the way through. Or had she, like her husband, fallen asleep somewhere along the way?

“High tide was at one-thirty that Monday afternoon,” Andrew said, “low at seven fifty-four that evening.”

Which meant Leeds still would have had good water when he took the boat out that afternoon, and he’d have beat the outgoing tide when he came back in at six, six-thirty. His story checked out.

But Charlie Stubbs had claimed…

“High again at one forty-two on Tuesday morning,” Andrew said.

There it was.

The boat could have gone out again at ten-thirty, as Stubbs had claimed, when the tide was midway between high and low and the water still good enough for passage. And if the boat had come back in early on Tuesday morning, it would have caught the tide almost at full again, Matthew had no defense based on the navigability of Willowbee Creek.

“Thank you, Andrew,” he said, “that was very helpful.”

An addendum to the State Attorney’s response to Matthew’s demand for discovery was waiting on his desk when he got to the office at nine that morning.

Where Matthew had asked for the names and addresses of persons with information relevant to the offense, Patricia Demming was now adding Charles N. Stubbs to her former list of witnesses. She undoubtedly planned to have him testify that he had seen Leeds taking the boat out at ten-thirty on the night of the murder. Exactly what Matthew himself would have done in her position. No surprises thus far. Matthew hated surprises.

Where Matthew had asked for any written or taped verbatim witness statements made to the police, Patricia now included a written copy of Stubbs’s statement taken by one Detective Frank Bannion of the State Attorney’s office on Saturday, August 18, two days ago.

Where Matthew had asked for a list of any tangible paper or objects to be used at the hearing and trial, Patricia now listed: One billed yellow nylon mesh cap with interlocking BB monogram in red and one yellow windbreaker with nylon shell and insulated lining.

This was a surprise.

Matthew picked up the phone and asked Cynthia to get Jessica Leeds for him. She buzzed a moment later to say that Mrs. Leeds was on the line.

“Good morning,” Matthew said.

“Good morning, I was just about to call you.”

“When were they there?” Matthew asked.

“Do you mean the police?”

“Yes.”

“Late last night.”

“Did they have a search warrant?”

“Yes.”

“Who was it? Rawles and Bloom again?”

“No. A detective from the State Attorney’s office.”

“Did you get his name?”

“Frank Bannion.”

“Was he looking specifically for the jacket and hat?”

“The search warrant called them ‘evidence or fruits of the crime.’ ”

“But did it say something like ‘Affiant specifically requests warrant to search for,’ something like that?”

“Yes. The jacket and hat. The warrant described them in detail.”

“Did it also describe the farm as the location for the search?”

“Yes. The exact location of the farm.”

“Did Bannion sign as affiant?”

“I think so.”

“Who granted the warrant?”

“Someone named Amores?”

“Amoros. With an o. Manuel Amoros, he’s a Circuit Court judge.”

“Yes, that sounds right.”

“Okay, so now she’s got the jacket and hat.”

“She?”

“Patricia Demming. The Assistant S.A. who’ll be trying the case. Tell me again, Mrs. Leeds. Are you sure your husband didn’t leave the house at any time on the night of the murders?”

“I’m positive.”

“Were you at home all night long?”

“Yes. All night long.”

“You didn’t go out for a walk or anything, during which time your husband might have…”

“No, I was home. We were home together. Stephen fell asleep watching the movie, but I watched it all the way through, and then I watched television for a while before going to sleep.”

“And slept the night through. Both of you.”

“Yes.”

“Until you were awakened by the police at nine the next morning.”

“Yes.”

“Can you remember the last time you saw that jacket and hat?”

“Stephen was wearing the hat when he came in off the boat that evening. Before dinner.”

“And the jacket? Was he wearing the jacket, too?”

“No. It was a very hot day.”

“Where does he normally keep the jacket?”

“In the hall closet.”

“And the hat?”

“The same closet. On the shelf there.”

“Is that where he put the hat when he came in that evening?”

“I suppose so. I really don’t remember. He was wearing it, but I don’t remember whether he put it in the closet or not. I didn’t know the hat was going to be important. Why is it suddenly so damn important? Why did they come for it?”

“Because they claim he was wearing it when he committed the murders.”

“He didn’t commit the murders. He was here with me all night long.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“How many times do I…?”

“Are you a very deep sleeper, Mrs. Leeds?”

“Yes.”

“Did you wake up at any time that night?”

“No.”

“You slept soundly the whole night through?”