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day. He was weak.
    Her eyes narrowed, warning that his high-handedness was duly noted and absolutely not appreciated. Or maybe she’d read his mind. “Darcy Chandler’s husband has not one witness who can confirm his alibi between eleven this morning and one this afternoon.” She made a face that indicated just how unbelievable she found his alibi. “He was driving around and then meditating at the Botanical Gardens?” She spread her arms wide apart and turned her palms upward in disbelief. “
Really?
We’re just going to take his word for that and give him a pat on the back and say how sorry we are for his loss?”
    “Chief Black was showing respect for the deceased and the husband who, so far, we have no reason to suspect of wrongdoing other than his inability to remain faithful, and that’s hearsay,” Dan pointed out. “Down here in the South, if you think back, I’m sure you’ll recall, respect and compassion are SOP, especially at times like this.”
    Jess dropped her head back and made an exasperated sound.
    Her assessments were valid. There was no denying that. Mayakovsky had stated that he’d spent a good deal of the morning driving around arguing with his wife by phone and attempting to make sense of what came next in their marriage. That part of his statement, at least the calls, was corroborated by the victim’s cell phone call list. During the interview Mayakovsky had broken down in tears at the idea that his final interaction with his wife was such a fierce battle. She had made up her mind to proceed with the dissolution of their union and he’d been beside himself. He’d said things he now regretted, but he hadn’t harmed her. He swore over and over that the last time he saw his wife she was alive and well.
    Dan understood a little something about the end of a relationship and the dreaded journey through divorce. A man didn’t always show the depth of pain he experienced, but the inability to convey those emotions in no way diminished his pain. In Dan’s estimation Mayakovsky was sincere when he lamented the agony of having his wife kick him out of their home, and then just this past Saturday she further informed him that he would no longer be a part of the renowned dance school in any capacity. Those statements were substantiated by the interviews Jess and Prescott had conducted. Mayakovsky seemed genuinely shocked and devastated that his wife was dead.
    “Chief Black is working with the cell carrier to confirm exactly where Mayakovsky was while he made those calls to his wife,” Dan added, no matter that Jess was fully aware of the steps. “We’ll know in a day or two whether or not he’s telling the truth.”
    Jess harrumphed her discontent and her arms went back over her chest. “Like it’ll matter in a day or two. The first words out of the victim’s father’s mouth when he heard the news was a demand to know what the hell his son-in-law had done. That tells us something about the relationship between Chandler and her husband. And Black just lets him go his merry way? A well-traveled man of means with a valid passport? By the time Black’s finished checking out his alibi, Maya-whatever-his-name-is could be back in the motherland. Do we have an extradition agreement with Russia?”
    She was not making this easy. “The husband is under surveillance. If he attempts to flee we will intervene. Since, at this time, we have no evidence indicating he’s guilty of any crime, he has the right to mourn his wife. In fact, we don’t even know if her death was anything more than a tragic accident.” He paused, dialed back the frustration and impatience that had been ramping up the decibel level of his voice. “There’s this little”—he held his thumb and forefinger close together—“thing called the law that determines in large degree our actions on this case and all others. Until we have proof this was no accident and that there is guilt on his part, we can’t hold or charge