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the fact that she was right in the middle of it, in the heart of central Phoenix, soaring above most everyone on the fifteenth floor. Her chaise lounge was a VIP seat for all the annual parades that marched down Central Avenue, the Fourth of July fireworks at Bolin Plaza, and on a daily basis, the sunsets, which had fascinated her since she was a child. Nothing was more magnificent or humbling.
    She sipped her ginseng and contemplated the climactic moment of Lily’s story. When Bob burst in on Lily and Thorndike, he pulled the man from the bed and threatened to kill him. Then he stormed out, refusing to come home. It took Lily three months and countless therapy sessions to get her husband back. She shouldered the full blame, not ever mentioning how inattentive Bob had been before the affair. Their marriage improved, and now it seemed rock solid. But was Ari missing the truth now as she obviously had missed in the past?
    She rubbed her forehead, as if to dislodge a thought that wouldn’t come. Something was bothering her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The phone interrupted her thoughts. “Hello?”
    “Maybe you don’t understand my English,” a terse female voice announced.
    Ari sat straight up. “Is that how you always start a conversation, Detective Nelson?”
    “I don’t have time for pleasantries, Ms. Adams.” Molly seethed across the line.
    “What’s the matter?”
    “Bob Watson is missing, and according to his wife, you paid them a visit late this afternoon during which time he left the house and hasn’t been seen since.”
    Ari’s mouth went dry. When Bob sped off, she assumed that he would return soon. It was his nature to take flight instead of fight. She could remember countless times he had stormed out of a room, but he was a volcano, erupting and going dormant. That was his pattern. Now it was eleven o’clock, and he should have been back, if he was coming back.
    “Ms. Adams, are you listening to me?”
    “Yes, Detective, every word. I did go to see them this afternoon, and discuss the damage to the property. Bob and Lily Watson are acting as the trustees of the property.”
    Ari hoped her business-like attitude might deflect some of Molly’s hostility.
    Molly sighed. “And that’s the only reason you went over there? Do you really think I’m going to believe that?” she asked, her voice shrill.
    Ari was glad miles separated them, because if the detective had been in close proximity, she sounded as though she would strangle Ari. “You just happened to stop by after learning Bob Watson was accused of murder for a friendly chat? How stupid do you think I am? And am I supposed to believe that you just kept the discussion confined to painting and flooring?”
    “Well . . .”
    “I’m sure a bloody floor would be plenty of reason for Bob Watson to flee,” Molly added sarcastically. “Maybe he’s drowning his sorrows at a bar somewhere, terribly upset that he lost a sale!” Ari closed her mouth and just let the detective rant. “I suppose you know all about Michael Thorndike’s affair with Mrs. Watson. And how it almost ruined their marriage?”
    “Yes,” Ari answered honestly, “we discussed that. But that was resolved a long time ago. They went to therapy and Bob forgave Lily for cheating on him. I think it shows a lot of character to be able to forgive your wife, even when you catch her in bed with her lover.” Ari couldn’t help but defend Bob to this woman who seemed to want to throw him in jail. The other end was silent for a while, and Ari wondered if Molly had hung up. “Are you still there, Detective?”
    When Molly answered, it was slow and deliberate. “That part I didn’t know. Bob Watson actually found his wife in bed with Michael Thorndike?”
    Ari’s hand clenched the receiver. “I thought Lily told you that.”
    “No.”
    “Well, I was told that in confidence,” Ari sputtered, “as a friend.”
    “Let me tell you something, Ms. Adams. I’m not