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out with a couple of desks in front, plenty of communications gear, photography equipment and computers. They’d kept the galley but the dining table was gone. In the back, though, instead of a bedroom there was a private space with a booth, table and chairs, which worked well for interviews. The digital recorders were very sensitive and picked up any background noise, so the vehicle had to be parked at some remove from a crime scene, in a quiet spot. They’d parked it in the driveway of an empty house with a For Sale sign.
    Sarah found Tom Cooper rummaging through the refrigerator. He backed out holding a bottle of water, looked down over his noble nose, said, ‘Well, so I’m going to be grilled by the lady police, hmm?’ and made a small sound that just missed being a chuckle. Sarah put on her Ice Cold Cop face, led him to the interview table, opened her notebook and started the who-what-where-when questions that had to be asked.
    Tom said he’d spent the weekend in Madera Canyon. ‘I go there often, I love the place. Stay at a small bed and breakfast and hike on the mountain. My hobby’s photography, and the flora and fauna there . . . there are several different microclimates . . .’ He seemed ready to launch into a wildlife lecture.
    â€˜I know, I like it too. How did you hear about your parents?’
    â€˜Rosa called me. Soon after she called the police, I think. She was crying . . . kind of babbling, but she insisted they were both dead, I got that much out of her but I still can’t believe it. Is it true? Are you sure?’
    â€˜Yes. I’m sorry.’
    â€˜God.’ He took a printed bandanna out of his corduroy pants pocket, and mopped his face. ‘Rosa said come right home, so I did. Now I’m here and your sergeant won’t let me in the house. How long is that going to last, not being able to get in the house?’
    â€˜Quite a while, I’m afraid. It’s a big crime scene and we need to process it all as soon as possible.’
    â€˜Jesus.’ He looked at the ceiling and thought. ‘It feels so unreal. Like a Kafka novel. They’re my parents , for God’s sake. I rush home after getting terrible news about them and I’m met by a lot of strangers saying, “I’m sorry, you can’t come in.”’
    Confusion and grief were to be expected at such a time. But Sarah thought part of Tom Cooper’s unhappiness stemmed from the fact that he was accustomed to having his own way. He seemed determined to stay on the attack till he got it. She decided to shake him up and see what dropped out. ‘Do you think it’s possible that your father killed your mother?’
    â€˜What?’ He was startled right out of his chair, jumped up, staring. ‘Of course it’s not possible.’ He paced around her, waving his arms. ‘Whose crazy notion is that? You shouldn’t be repeating it, I won’t put up with that kind of talk!’
    â€˜You weren’t aware they might be fighting or—’
    â€˜No, of course not. And I want you to stop spreading this terrible lie right now! You should be ashamed of yourself, insulting my parents when they’re not here to defend themselves!’
    â€˜Will you sit down so we can talk, please?’ He sat on the edge of a chair, crossed his legs, wagged the top foot. He looked ready to fly off again at the next thing she said. ‘When did you see them last?’
    â€˜Saturday afternoon. We have a rule that we all go our own way on Sunday, and sometimes I start a little early. I said goodbye to my father at the East Speedway store about two o’clock, went home and packed my gear in the car and drove to Madera Canyon.’
    â€˜Did he seem at all upset when you said goodbye? Anything unusual?’
    â€˜No. My father was never upset. He was exactly the same every day of his life, always in charge.’
    Must