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heard. With Fabian’s connections to the community, you’re probably getting leaned on pretty hard to come up with an arrest. Sophie adored him, you know. She’s been listening to the news every night hoping to hear more details. Got any hot suspects?”
    Al coughed into his fist. “All I can say is what I’ve told everyone else. The matter is under investigation.”
    “Al, it’s me. Your old buddy. Whatever you say won’t leave this room.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Okay, then I’ll talk. You listen. I’ve got a few ideas. Why don’t I tell you what they are. You might learn something.”
    “Sure, pal. Whatever you say.” He finished his first cookie, then started on a second, pushing the sack back across the desk.
    “One of the reports I read said Bob’s house hadn’t been broken into. That means he must have let his killer in, so he probably knew him.”
    “Could be.”
    “Might have been a friend, or a member of his family.”
    “Okay.”
    “That’s it? You won’t confirm anything ?”
    “Nope. Can’t.”
    Bram drummed his fingers on the desk for a second. “All right. Let’s change gears, then. Who had a motive for Loy’s murder?”
    “It’s your dime, Baldric. You tell me.”
    “Valerie Fabian’s family, that’s who. They all thought Loy was responsible for her death.”
    “It’s kind of a stretch to suggest that this family member, whoever he was, was so angry that he was willing to whack Loy.”
    “ He? It was a man? A male relative?”
    “No comment.”
    But Bram could see he’d struck pay dirt. “All right, let’s just say for a moment that whoever shot Loy went straight to Bob’s house. Maybe Bob was in on it. Maybe he paid this guy to do it. Whatever the case, they got together and they got into a fight. Suppose our bad boy walked in and announced what he’d done, and Bob thought, Hell, I’ve got to call the police. Maybe he threatened to turn the murderer in.”
    “Possible.”
    Bram watched Al’s face for hints that he was going in the right direction. “So this man, this . . . relative . . . shoots Bob.”
    “Someone sure did.”
    “Bob’s taken to the emergency room, where he dies of the gunshot wound.”
    Al just stared at him.
    “What?”
    “I didn’t say a word.”
    Bram could tell he’d taken a wrong turn, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. “I’m missing something.”
    “You’re missing a lot.”
    “Have you talked to any of the suspects yet?”
    “No comment.”
    “Come on, Al. Give me a crumb. What would it cost you?”
    “Well, let’s see. My job?”
    “You’ve got to be all over Bob’s family. You’re the one who’s always saying that the colder the trail becomes, the harder it is to nail the perpetrator.”
    “Don’t repeat my words back to me, Baldric. It’s not nice.”
    “I suppose if Bob’s murderer was a relative, fingerprints, fibers, that sort of thing are all useless because there would be a reason why those people—men— would have been in the house. They’re family.”
    “I wish it were that simple. This is the most convoluted case I’ve ever worked on.”
    “Why? Two murders, both tied together. One perpetrator.”
    “I wish.”
    Now Bram was confused. “More than one shooter?”
    “No. Just one.”
    “Then—”
    “I can’t talk about it. We’re not sure what we’ve got yet. It’s more complicated than what you’re reading in the papers.”
    “In what way?”
    Al lowered his eyes.
    “ Use me, Al. I’m here for you.”
    The cop gave him a disgusted grunt.
    “Want another cookie?” Bram rattled the sack.
    “Save the charm, Baldric. It doesn’t work on me.” But he grabbed the sack. “Okay, look. You’ll find this out in a matter of hours anyway, so I might as well tell you. I learned a few hours ago that somebody leaked one of our main pieces of evidence to the press. We’re in possession of a taped 911 call Fabian placed the night he was shot. He called to report a murder down