Don

do anything for Mr. Peyton, but he was quite sharp with me. The first time in ten years. But he was deeply troubled. He drank two snifters of brandy. Took them straight down. I've never seen him do that before.'

'And then what?'

'Then he slammed out of the house and drove off. Lily had come out of her room by then and she was terribly worried. She went out, too. Mr. Peyton didn't return until near dawn. I know because I was too disturbed to sleep and I heard him come in.'

'Where do you suppose he went?'

'I don't know.' She colored slightly. 'Perhaps to Mrs. Cosgrove's house. He often stays there quite late.'

'And you didn't see Lily again, either?'

'Not that night.' Mrs. Ebert rubbed at a shallow vertical line between her eyebrows. 'I feel that I've said far too much, but Mr. Lindstrom was a terrible person. The very idea of verbally attacking Mr. Peyton on the day of his daughter's funeral! Not only that, but threatening him with exposure, of all things. It was distressing and ridiculous!'

Nick was quite sure Oliver Peyton found the threat of exposure distressing. He was not at all sure the man found it ridiculous.

After downing another glass of Coke and a second plate of Ritz crackers with cheese, Nick gave up on Oliver Peyton. 'Will you tell him I need to talk with him when he comes home?' he asked Mrs. Ebert.

'Certainly. I can't guarantee that he'll contact you, though.' She looked at him regretfully. 'He seems to be dodging people lately. All the stress.'

'I understand. But this is very important, Mrs. Ebert. Would you give me a call even if he doesn't? I won't mention your name to him.' The woman looked as if she were going to refuse. 'Mrs. Ebert, I'm trying to find Tamara's killer.'

'All right,' she said unhappily. 'I'll call.'

He felt slightly ashamed as he walked back to the car. He'd enlisted the woman's help by telling her he wanted to find Tamara's killer. He knew Oliver Peyton didn't murder his daughter. He wasn't so sure Oliver Peyton had not murdered Jeff Lindstrom.

He sat in the car wondering what to do next. He's wanted to talk to Hysell about Dee, but Hysell wasn't coming on duty until four because he'd been up all night dealing with the Alison Cosgrove attack, allowing Nick to go home for a few hours of sleep and some time with Paige. He'd talk to Hysell this evening. Now he'd make another attempt to see Dee.

Nick braced himself as he pulled up to the Fisher home. His first two visits had been less than pleasant. He had a feeling his third could provoke an actual physical attack from the frail Mrs. Fisher. He noticed an old Volkswagen in the driveway that had not been there on his previous visits. Maybe it was Dee's.

His question was answered as soon as the front door swung open. A woman of around thirty with curly brown hair stood before him. She wore jeans on a sturdy frame, and her only makeup was a slash of bright pink lipstick. She looked exhausted.

'Dee Fisher?' he asked.

'The famous Sheriff Meredith. Ted talks about you a lot.' From her tone Nick guessed Hysell did not speak of him in glowing terms. 'My mother has a lot to say about you, too.'

'We've had a couple of conversations. May I come in?'

'Why?'

'Because I need to talk to you.' Dee continued to stare at him. 'If you don't want to disturb your mother, we could speak out here on the lawn.' He paused. 'Or at headquarters.'

'Headquarters!' Mrs. Fisher appeared behind Dee like a small, squawking bird. 'I knew you'd gone and done some thin' wrong, Dee. Can't keep outta trouble. Just like your daddy!'

She began to rasp, then to cough. She backed away from the door, hacking forcefully into one hand, swatting with the other at Dee when she came near. 'Get away! You.only make me worse!' Splutter, gag, snort. Dee turned to Nick, looking utterly hopeless and exhausted. 'You'd better come inside. As you can see, I can't leave her.'

Nick stepped inside. He knew better than to suggest calling the E.M.S. Dee hovered over her mother who bent double, alternately coughing and cursing, until the siege began to subside. 'I'll get you some lemonade,' Dee said.

'Beer!'

'Mom-'

'I said beer!' Mrs. Fisher quavered. 'And get him one, too. He's a beer-drinkin' man. Might put him in a better mood.'

'Lemonade for me,' Nick told Dee. 'I'm on duty.'

Mrs. Fisher glared at him. 'Coward.'

Off to another roaring start, Nick thought as he entered the small, stuffy living room. At least he'd pinned down the elusive Dee.

She returned to the living room with a glass of lemonade and a can of beer. Mrs. Fisher motioned to the plastic covered couch Nick had sat on the other night and planted herself on the armchair across from him. 'Mrs. Fisher, it might be better if I spoke to Dee alone,' he said.

Angry light flared in her eyes. 'This is my house! Nothin' goes on in here that I don't know about and that includes conversations!'

What must it have been like to grow up with this hostile, suspicious woman? Nick wondered. He wanted to order her from the room, but he knew it was no use. Dee was looking at him warily as she hovered near her mother's chair.

'I talked with your mother this morning,' Nick said. 'She said she hadn't seen you since yesterday afternoon.'

'I was out.'

'He knows that!' Mrs. Fisher snapped. 'Out doin' what is what he wants to know, and me, too, for that matter, me here dyin' and you not even botherin' to come home all night.' She took a slug of beer from the can. 'And don't try to tell me you was with that deputy 'cause he called here for you this mornin'. I said you was in church. Hah! Bet he believed that one!'

'Ma, please,' Dee said tiredly.

Nick looked at Dee. 'I would like to know where you were.'

'What's it matter? I don't have to answer to you.'

'What is the big secret?'

'There's no secret' Dee tried unsuccessfully to laugh. 'I just think it's my own business where I go.'

Nick stared at her steadily. 'Normally I would agree, but you've heard what happened to Alison Cosgrove last night.'

'I saw the paper this morning. She got attacked. What's that got to do with me?'

'Do you know what happened to Jeff Lindstrom?'

Dee stiffened. 'Who is Jeff Lindstrom?'

'The man Natalie St. John found murdered in front of her house this morning.' He paused. 'The man who's motel room you were seen coming out of Thursday night.'

'I knew it!' Mrs. Fisher exploded. 'Knew it, knew it, knew it! Whorin' around. He's the one!'

'I don't know any Jeff Lindstrom!' Dee's fists clenched. 'What are you saying? That I killed this guy?'

'I'm saying he disappeared Thursday and he was found murdered this morning. I'm saying you were positively identified as the woman who came out of his room at the Lakeview Motel Thursday night crying.'

'The Lakeview?' Color faded from Dee's face. 'Who says they saw me at the Lakeview?'

'The desk clerk. Wade Hanley.'

'I don't know any Wade Hanley.'

'He and his father were in a car wreck two years ago. His father died. Wade spent some time in the hospital and met you. He remembers you.'

'He made a mistake.'

'Then you deny being at the Lakeview Motel Thursday night?' Dee stared at him defiantly. 'Ms. Fisher, I have to tell you that you could be in some serious trouble.' Nick was stretching things. He had no evidence linking Dee to any of the murders, and only Wade's word that she was in Lindstrom's room, but he knew she was holding