“Assuming he didn’t change the carpets,” Wanda said. “What if he did?”

“Then that would be suspicious,” Marge said.

“Exactly,” Decker said. “So before we even bother a judge with a warrant, let’s investigate to see if Ivan did anything with the car that would arouse suspicions.”

“Like changing the carpets?” Oliver said. “What do you want? For us to start checking BMW dealers?”

Wanda said, “If he was hiding bloody carpets, do you think he’d use a dealer?”

Decker said, “Even so, start with the dealerships. Best place to order new carpets, and there aren’t that many of them in this area. If that doesn’t work, canvass the independent car-repair shops. Ivan’s not a genius but he wouldn’t drive around in a car with blood-soaked carpets.”

“Yeah, but he seemed really excited about driving Roseanne’s Beemer,” Oliver said. “Nothing as sweet as driving a car you didn’t pay for.”

AT ELEVEN TWENTY-SIX A.M., a grinning Decker announced that Raymond Holmes’s right finger-and right thumbprints matched the fingerprints on file at Roswell Correctional for Belize Hernandez. Upon hearing the first bit of definite news, the squad room broke into cheers. His matching prints together with the old man’s story made the contractor a prime candidate in Beth Devargas’s murder, and jumped Holmes to the top of the list in regard to the disappearance of Roseanne Dresden, speeding Beemer and lie-detector test notwithstanding.

With the matching prints, Raymond Holmes’s visits to Santa Fe Correctional, and Martin Hernandez’s assurance that he would testify against his son in exchange for his immediate freedom, Decker had no problem getting a warrant for Holmes’s arrest for Beth’s murder. It was signed and sealed by two in the afternoon, and at six in the evening, Decker, Oliver, and Marge were sitting in row 13, seats A, B, and C on a Southwest flight from Burbank a.k.a. Bob Hope Airport to San Jose International. Holmes would be brought in for voluntary questioning the next morning at San Jose PD and proper personnel at the police station had been informed of the mission, ready to assist the trio in whatever they needed.

To everyone’s relief, Holmes agreed to come in without the necessity of announcing the purpose of the visit. But this time, he was wary enough to ask for a lawyer. Three hours later Holmes and a gray-suited man named Taz Dudley waited for Decker in an interview room at San Jose PD in a western-area precinct.

The party was about to begin.

R EMEMBERING HOW MUCH Holmes sweated, Decker brought in a box of tissues and made sure that there was plenty of water available. Immediately, the big man poured himself a glass, drained it, and poured another one. The interview would probably be interrupted by frequent bathroom visits, which would affect the rhythm of the questioning but such is life. Holmes had dressed comfortably-sweatpants and a black T-shirt that tented over his belly like a parachute. He had socks and sneakers on his feet. His mouthpiece, Taz Dudley, was garbed in a navy shadow-stripe suit, cream-colored shirt, and a red tie.

Some minutes were taken up by introductions. Then Decker started the conversation.

“Are you comfortable, Mr. Holmes?”

“How comfortable can I be when I’m dragged away from my house and continue to be treated like a common criminal?”

Taz Dudley placed a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Let me talk, Ray. That’s why you’re paying me. You just settle down, okay?” The lawyer was an austere-looking man, with a portly build and a decent head of salt-and-pepper hair. He had deep brown eyes, a square chin, and a tan that either came from many Caribbean vacations or hours in a salon. “Do you want to tell us why you brought my client in for questioning?”

Decker’s words addressed the lawyer but he looked at Holmes. He threw out a false start. “Your client was having an affair with a woman who is now missing.”

“God, I don’t believe this!” Holmes shouted.

“Ray, please-”

“No, you let me handle this, Mr. Dudley. I want to have my say. Then you can take over.” He glared at Decker. “You asked me to take a polygraph test, I took a polygraph test without a lawyer. And I passed. Now here it is, what…like four weeks later, and you’re back again. This isn’t questioning, this is harassment. I cooperated. Yet you continue to prevent me from working, so I’m losing money there. Plus, you’re costing me money to retain a lawyer. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do if this continues, I’m going to sue San Jose, I’m going to sue LAPD, and I’m going to personally sue you!”

Holmes grabbed the glass of water, but knocked it down instead. Decker dabbed up the mess with some tissues and gave Holmes a wad to dab his face.

“This is just ridiculous!” The big man mopped up his wet face. “Look, I am truly sorry that the woman is missing-”

“Ray, you’ve said enough,” Dudley interrupted.

“Okay, okay.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Just get me out of here, okay?”

“Is it your intention to arrest my client?”

“It might be.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Holmes cried out.

“Ray-”

“No, I want to know why you’re harassing me after I cooperated with every request you made. This is what I get from being a good citizen?”

Decker said, “If you would just hold your outrage for a few minutes, maybe I can ask you a few questions and straighten this mess out. Then we can all go home, happy campers.”

“That’s what you said the last time I was here!”

“Mr. Holmes, I understand your frustration. We are just doing our job.”

“Have you been talking to that scumbag husband of hers?”

“Ray-”

He stood up abruptly. So did Decker. “Relax,” Holmes said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Decker nodded. “I’ll take you.”

“You’re not going with me. For all I know, while I’m in there with you, you’ll zap me with a taser.”

“Your lawyer can come as well.”

“This is just plain embarrassing!” He looked at his lawyer. “Make sure he stays away from my dick.”

The excursion took up another ten minutes. After they were reseated, Holmes appeared as if he had lost a little of his steam. Decker said, “I’d just like to ask your client a few questions, all right?”

“Go ahead,” Dudley said.

“Thank you.” Decker looked at Holmes. “The night before Roseanne Dresden disappeared, you told me that you were home with your wife all evening.”

“Yes,” Holmes answered.

“I really think it would be in your best interest to have your wife come in and sign a statement backing up your claim.”

“You know that’s just a form of intimidation, Lieutenant,” Dudley said. “Mr. Holmes has admitted to an affair with Roseanne Dresden. He has also told you that he had not seen the woman in six months prior to her disappearance.”

“We’ve been through this already,” Holmes broke in. “I swear to God, I don’t know what happened to Roseanne. I don’t know if she died in the crash, I don’t know if that scumbag husband did her in, or I don’t know if she hooked up with some loser with a nasty temper. I don’t know, okay?”

“Okay,” Decker said.

Holmes wiped his wet face. “Okay.” Sensing that the heat had been lifted, he sat back in his chair and took another glass of water. “Can I go home now?”

“Not quite yet,” Decker said. “I have a good reason for asking your wife to sign a statement, sir. It would just be one less charge to deal with.”

Holmes sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“Let me handle this,” Dudley said. “Are you going to explain or is it your intention to keep us holed up for nothing?”

“Mr. Dudley, your client has an identity problem.” He looked at Holmes and then reached in his suitcase and pulled out a legal document dated twenty-three years ago. “You weren’t always Raymond Holmes, were you?”