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Before going into the bar, Dodge had parked parallel on Bowie Street, choosing a metered slot that had a shade tree growing beside it. The shade had helped. Nevertheless, the interior of the rental car felt like an oven when he got in. He cranked the motor so he could turn on the air conditioner.
He lit a cigarette, then took from the pocket of his jacket a slender pink cell telephone. Amanda Lofland's cell telephone. The cell phone she'd been careless enough to leave on the table while they were deeply involved in their conversation. The cell phone Dodge had pilfered while she was blotting her tearful eyes with a soggy Kleenex.
Most criminal investigators followed the money first. Dodge Hanley went after the scorned woman.
He tapped the phone's icon that accessed the log of recent calls and scrolled through it. All her calls yesterday and last night had come from one number. He called it. It was answered with a cheerful, "Hi, this is Ben, leave a message."
So, the couple had stayed in close contact yesterday while Ben was with Berry. Which came as somewhat of a disappointment, since it virtually disproved Dodge's theory of looking first at jealous females for possible suspects.
Or maybe not. Maybe Lofland had made all those calls to his wife as overcompensation for cheating on her, in his heart if not with his dick.
In any case, Dodge still considered Amanda Lofland worth looking at.
Next, he scrolled through the cell phone's menu, landing on her directory of contacts.
Sticking with protocol, Dodge entered the house through the back door. Caroline was at the stove stirring the contents of a pot. "Good. You're back," she said. "Dinner's almost ready."
"What are we having?"
"Spaghetti and meat sauce."
"One of your specialities."
She directed a worried glance toward the interior door that led to the rest of the house. "Be careful not to say things like that. How would you know it's one of my specialities?"
"Like how would you know that I drink my tea unsweetened?"
She thought for a moment, then said with chagrin, "This afternoon."
"Hmm."
"Habits die hard."
"And get you into trouble." The white card with Grace's phone number on it suddenly felt like a live coal inside his breast pocket. "Need any help?"
"No, thanks."
"I could set the table. I think I remember which side the fork goes on."
"Already done. Would you like something to drink?"
He shook his head. "I had a beer in town." She was about to ask him about that, but before she could pose a question he might not want to answer, he asked, "Where's Berry?"
"Still sleeping, last I checked."
They still hadn't addressed what he'd learned from his conversation with Amanda Lofland in the hospital cafeteria. After having recounted it to Caroline and Berry, he'd gone out for a cigarette. When he'd come back inside, Caroline had suggested that Berry walk him through the events of last night, showing him where everything had taken place. Actually, he'd been about to suggest that himself.
For the next hour, they'd moved from room to room while Berry related chronologically and in detail exactly what had taken place. In the bathroom, the shower curtain had been reattached to the rod. The blood-soaked rug had been removed from the bedroom and replaced by another to cover the bloodstain that had seeped into the hardwood. Despite these concealing measures, the room retained the feel of a place where something traumatic had occurred.
Dodge had knelt where Berry indicated Ben Lofland had fallen. He'd flipped back the replacement rug to examine the bloodstain. Then he'd gone into the bathroom. When he reached the tub, he'd turned back and estimated the distance to the bloodstain. "Starks was standing here when he fired?"
Berry nodded.
"Five feet, six at most. Lofland's lucky to be alive."
"Oren must be a lousy shot."
"Must be."
