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“Timing in homicide investigations often is.”
“You’re the expert on that, not me. So, do you think she killed Meryl Hawkins and took off before the cops found proof that she murdered him?”
“Speaking of proof, did you ever come up with an alibi for the time of his death?”
“I was at dinner with a business associate until eleven-thirty or so. Then he drove me home. We got to my place around midnight. I think that lets me off the hook.”
“And the name of this business associate?”
She took out a pen and slip of paper from her purse, wrote something down, and handed it to Decker.
He glanced at the paper, his eyes hiking in surprise. “Earl Lancaster?”
“Yes. He’s working on some projects for me. He’s a first-rate general contractor. Why?”
“He’s married to my old partner.”
“Not for much longer,” said Katz. When Decker again looked surprised, she added, “Small town, Detective.” She swallowed the last of her drink. “Well, let me know if you need anything else.”
With a whisk of blonde hair, she was gone.
After she left, Decker sat there and wondered one thing.
Why hadn’t Earl mentioned that he was working with Katz when they had run into each other at the American Grill?
Because that development royally screwed his wife.
Or soon-to-be ex-wife.
