it will give us an idea where things stand. You must tell me who is in attendance.”
Not long after Myles returned from the cemetery, he reported that he had been seen and videotaped by members of the LPPD. Dane had held up one pale hand and shouted, “Don’t! Not another word. You will tell me more this evening.”
For the past few hours, Dane had been amusing himself by observing the police surveillance efforts, their virtual occupation of other houses in the neighborhood. “Oh, look! They’ve convinced the old busybody next door to quarter their troops!” he said gleefully.
He had fed the swans a little earlier than usual, making a show of it, his gestures sweeping. He began conversing with the birds in a lunatic fashion. He had been delighted to think of his little play with the swans being immortalized by the video cameras of the LPPD. “They’ll believe I’ve gone gaga!”
But when Dane finally heard Myles’s report, his mood changed.
“Elena Rosario — you’re sure?”
“No, sir. Not positive.”
“But you heard her voice! It must have been chilling! I swear to you, I horripilate at the very idea — Detective Elena Rosario’s voice after all these years!”
Myles now knew without a doubt that he was on dangerous ground. He said nothing.
“Did her fellow law enforcement officers embrace her? Did they welcome — ah! — her resurrection?”
“No, sir. Detectives Collins and Baird were intrigued by the veiled woman, but I believe they left the task of identifying her to Detective Harriman. Or perhaps they believed she was in some way connected to Mr. Arden. She stayed next to him throughout the time I saw her.”
“Ah, yes, Arden.” Dane brooded for a time, then said, “Tell me more.”
Myles described the altercation between Tory Randolph and the veiled woman, which had taken place just as he was leaving. He kept hoping Mr. Dane would find some amusement in it. He did not. Suddenly, Myles remembered another detail he had planned to report.
“Before anyone else arrived at the cemetery, I looked at the flowers brought there from the funeral home. They included an elaborate arrangement of white flowers. All white. No card.”
Dane sat up straighter. “Really? Now you interest me…”
Myles waited.
“Yes, that is interesting. Did you discover where they came from?”
“Not yet, sir, but we are working on it.”
“It is very important to me, Myles.”
“Yes, sir. I expect an answer by early this evening.”
Dane tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. After a moment, he asked, “Detective Harriman was delayed in his return to his office?”
“Yes, sir. By several hours.”
“Curious…” Dane grew introspective. “He does not seem as interested in me as his friends are. Which can only mean that he is not as convinced as they that I killed their precious Trent Randolph. Why?” He looked up at Myles. “What does he know that they don’t?”
This aspect of matters had escaped Myles’s notice. He was ashamed that he had not assigned someone to follow Detective Harriman from the cemetery. He had someone watching inside the department, of course, but that was not helpful to Mr. Dane now.
“You and I were due to discuss him today, weren’t we?” Dane asked.
“The report is ready whenever you’d like to go over it, sir.”
“Excellent,” Dane said. “After dinner, you and I shall spend time together in the study, discussing Detective Harriman.”
“Yes, sir. Will that be all?”
Dane nodded absently. Myles was almost to the door when Dane called him back.
“The boy, Myles. Tell me everything you can remember about the boy.”
31
Wednesday, July 12, 5:30 P.M.
The Kelly-Harriman Home
Elena checked on Seth, who was still sound asleep. He had stayed up late the last few nights, visiting with Yvette and Matt — added to all the stress and excitement of the day, he was exhausted.
The dogs had gone out when she opened the door to the room. She had almost lost her balance, because she had been using one foot to block the entrance of the big gray cat — Cody? Yes, that was what Frank had called him. She shut the door behind the whole menagerie — on all but Seth’s guinea pig, who was sleeping in his new cage, undoubtedly dreaming of huge tomcats.
She looked around the room and tried hard to summon some sense of anger, of righteous indignation toward Frank Harriman. She couldn’t do it. She had seen him talking to Baird, could see there was some sort of friction between them. And although Pete had helped them out, she knew he was one of the ones who thought Phil was guilty.
There, the anger was back.
It lasted until she saw a photo of Frank with two boys who were near Seth’s age. The kids were climbing all over him; he was laughing. They weren’t his kids, though. She had overheard that much of Seth’s interrogation of
