“Maybe they reconciled.”

“I…honestly don’t think so. She was trying to reconcile with Ivan. They were in counseling together, although it wasn’t working, according to her.”

“I’d like to talk to her ex-lover. I’ll need his name.”

“I can give it to you, but what relevance would it have to her insurance policy?”

“We’re just checking out all kinds of avenues,” Decker said. “Maybe if she was going to marry this guy, she would have changed her policy.”

“No, you’re on the wrong track. She had no intent of marrying Ray. Raymond Holmes. He’s five ten, two-seventy, and like I said, in his fifties. He was a builder. I found him as dull as dry toast. Roseanne would never marry him.”

“Why not? He could certainly give her the security that Ivan wasn’t giving her.”

“Roseanne never cared about security. Her father has money and she was earning a good living. Roseanne was interested in a shoulder to cry on and Ray was perfect for that…although I’m sure the jewelry didn’t hurt.”

“Tell me something, Ms. Toombs. How did Roseanne…with all her attributes…hook up with a loser like Ivan Dresden?”

“Have you ever met Ivan?”

Decker shook his head.

“He’s really good-looking. It’s his best asset. It’s his only asset. If he would have just been a slacker, and a spendthrift, I think Roseanne would have tolerated him because he’s great arm candy. It was the affairs. They made her look small. Even though she had her own fling, her heart wasn’t into it. She was planning on leaving him, but like I told you before, I don’t know if she got around to changing her insurance policy.”

If there was ever a convenient time for Ivan to whack her, it would have been then. Yet now that Decker had found out about Roseanne’s lover, her being on the flight to San Jose made a lot more sense, despite Arielle’s insistence that the relationship was over. Decker said, “I’ll take Raymond Holmes’s phone number and address now.”

“I’ll give you what I have, but it may not be current.”

“That’s not a problem. I’m sure he’s listed, at least professionally.”

“Yeah, according to Roseanne, he owns a successful contracting company.”

“According to Roseanne,” Decker repeated.

“I believe her. Roseanne was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a liar.”

“She was cheating on her husband. Isn’t that lying?”

Arielle thought about that. “More like lies of omission rather than lies of commission. I don’t know if she ever told Ivan about the affair. And I doubt that Ivan cared enough to ever ask.”

DECKER’S CELL PHONE displayed a new message: Marge, and there was urgency in her voice. He called her back immediately and she picked up on the third ring.

“Where are you?” Decker asked.

“On my way back to the station house from the Crypt. We can put the brakes on the Dresden mystery. A female body just showed up on a slab from recovery.”

“Roseanne?”

“Nothing definitive, but who else would it be? Roseanne was the only female in the crash unaccounted for. The body is badly burned and badly decayed. The skeleton is extremely fragile. It took them almost four hours to transport it to the Crypt.”

“Do they have the jaw for dental records?”

“They have the entire skeleton, Pete. The problem is that it’s going to take a while to X-ray the teeth. Every time they touch something, a piece crumbles. Except for one area that was relatively unscathed.”

“Which area is that?”

“Back spine.”

“And the pathologist is pretty sure it’s her.”

There was a pause. “You don’t want to let go of this, do you?”

“I guess I just don’t like spinning my wheels. My fault. I made the assignments before recovery was done. I’m sure she’ll be identified and that will be that. I’ll call up the Lodestones and let them know the news.”

Marge said, “Even if the dentals aren’t perfect, we caught another break. We found some intact fabric and there was discernible writing on it…like a message T-shirt. Pink. We can go back and check if Roseanne owned a T-shirt like that one, maybe there’s even a photograph with her in it.”

“Great.” Still, Decker felt oddly disappointed. Some aspect of him had bought into the Lodestones’ fantasy idea that Roseanne hadn’t been on the plane. “Well, we’ll get some kind of identity soon enough, so it certainly doesn’t pay to put any more time into the case.”

“I wish I would have known about it earlier in the day. Save me a trip to the paper bullshitting with a reporter and pretending I was an insurance agent…although I must say I pulled it off nicely.”

“I used an insurance dodge, too.”

“Great minds think alike.”

“Call up Oliver and tell him to put the case in storage until further notice. I’ll meet you back at the station house and we’ll see what other mayhem the residents of the West Valley have cooked up for us.”

A T THE SOUND of the tentative knock, Decker lifted his head from his paperwork. It was Marissa Kornblatt, the squad room secretary, and her expression was as reluctant as her entrance. “So sorry, Lieutenant. I tried the intercom but your phone’s not working.”

“I unplugged it. Otherwise, I can’t get anything done. What’s going on?”

She handed him a thick pile of pink message slips. “These were last hour’s calls, but that’s not the issue. Farley Lodestone is on line three, and in typical fashion, he won’t take no for an answer.”

It was the seventh time the bereaved stepfather had called in two weeks. It was getting to be a morning ritual. He wasn’t taking the recent news well.

Hello, Farley-they were on first-name basis now.

No, they haven’t positively ID’d the body yet, but they’re working on it. Yes, I’m so sorry it’s taking this long, but we all want to do the best possible job. The coroner and I will call you when we’ve got something definite to tell you.

Decker picked up the phone. “Hello, Farley. Pete Decker, here.”

“You must be sick of me calling.”

“Not at all. I just wish I had something to tell you. I haven’t heard from the coroner’s office yet, but it’s only eleven in the morning.”

“I just got off the phone with them, Decker. Not with the whole office. With Cesar Darwin. You ever talk to the man?”

“Several times. He’s a very competent doctor.”

“Good to hear, specially ’cause he talks with an accent.”

“He’s originally from Cuba. Is he the one doing the identification for the recovery?”

“He’s the one, and that’s why I’m calling you. When I talked to him, he sounded cagey.”

“Cagey?” Decker raked his fingers through his hair. “In what way, Farley?”

“Like he knew somethin’ and didn’t want to tell me. Call him up for me and find out what’s going on. If you call me back and tell me I’m bein’ paranoid, I’ll believe you. But I want you to be damn straight with me, Decker, if you also think that he sounds fishy.”

“Fishy?”

“I asked him if he got to Roseanne’s autopsy-a straight yes-or-no question. The problem is he didn’t give me a straight yes-or-no answer. What I got was doctor-talking, jumbled-up bird crap. I come to trust you, and I suppose that’s a compliment of sorts ’cause I don’t trust no one. So do me the favor, Decker. Call him up and see if your bullshit detector is as finely tuned as mine.”

THE CALL TO Dr. Darwin was quick, but the answer wasn’t at all to Decker’s liking.

“I think this might be better if we meet in person,” he answered.

Cesar Darwin had been in the country for twenty-five years, but his accent was still thick and he was hard to understand over the phone. Decker thought it was because Cesar had been holed up in the Crypt talking to corpses instead of seeing patients with beating hearts. He probably didn’t get a lot of auditory feedback.