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from Riverdale, which meant Callie had left home by six thirty.
    â€œDid she phone me from the trail on her cell?” she said.
    â€œTwo calls were sent to this number,” Detective Vincelli said, “We believe she made them minutes before she died.”

Chapter Four
    Detective Novak limped to the chair facing the kitchen window. Vincelli paused to study the photo magnets on Paula’s fridge.
    â€œThose are my daughters,” she said.
    â€œThe dark-haired one looks like you.” He claimed the chair next to the side door, leaving her the one across from him.
    When they turned down her offer to make coffee, she got out jugs of water and lemonade and washed some grapes. After the grilling at the door, the detectives had shifted the conversation to small talk, commenting on her home’s fresh paint smell, her bare living room walls and her deep backyard. Settled at the table, Novak grabbed a sprig of grapes. Both men took out notepads and pens. Novak nodded at Vincelli, who said they would begin with basic information. He asked for Paula’s full name, address, cell phone number, occupation, age, and marital status.
    Novak recorded her responses. “How do you spell your surname?”
    â€œS-a-v-a-r-d,” she said. “My father was French. I’m from Montreal, like Callie.” She couldn’t shake the image in her mind of Callie phoning from the trail in darkness. Callie had heard Paula’s voice on the answering machine, hung up, and tried again, hoping the rings would wake a friend who wasn’t there.
    â€œHow do you spell your boss’s name?” Novak asked.
    She told them and added that Nils van der Vliet Insurance Adjusters was a small firm; she was sure they had never heard of it. The staff currently consisted of Nils, who was the owner, a secretary, and her. It seemed Vincelli would lead the questioning, while Novak took notes. Given Vincelli’s age, he might be a trainee. They trained junior adjusters that way, sending them out with someone senior.
    â€œYou moved to this house last month?” Vincelli asked.
    â€œI took possession August 24th and moved in the next weekend.”
    â€œWhat was your prior address?”
    She supplied it. “The house is registered in my daughter’s name, for tax reasons; she and her fellow tenants pay me rent. It’s perfectly legal.”
    Neither cop disagreed. She drank some lemonade. Just because they were cops, she shouldn’t be defensive.
    Novak glanced at the door. “Do you mind if I open that? It’s a bit stuffy in here.”
    It would be less stuffy if he took off his jacket. Her sweaty blouse and capris made her feel vulnerable against their formal attire. Novak returned to his seat with a groan.
    Vincelli loosened his tie. “You should see a doctor about that leg.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Paula refilled her lemonade glass.
    â€œFell off my horse,” Novak said.
    She laughed, releasing some tension.
    â€œIt’s no joke,” he said. “That filly’s too frisky for an old fart like me.”
    Vincelli brought them back to business. “When was the last time you saw Callie?”
    â€œIn March, at her daughter’s play,” she said. “We spoke once, about a month afterwards. I left her a few messages over the summer. She didn’t get back to me until this week. I found that odd.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œUsually, she returns my calls within a few days. I expect she was busy with Sam and her house renovations. You’ve met her husband, Sam?” Obviously, they had. She took a sip. Hopefully, the liquid would regenerate her parched brain.
    Vincelli continued. “When you talked to Callie in April, did she sound troubled about anything?”
    â€œOn the contrary, she was buoyed about her university studies and sounded happy with Sam. Her life couldn’t have been better. She’d had a health scare in the winter,