"I saw marks on her neck," Sandy said. "Was she strangled?"

"Yes, but her head also struck the concrete floor with some force, first. She was probably unconscious when she was strangled, so she would have experienced no distress."

"I'm glad of that," Sandy said, "but if her head had already struck the floor with enough force to leave that blood, surely she would have been unconscious. Why would he have strangled her? He didn't strangle Albert, did he?" It seemed best to ask the obvious questions.

"No, he didn't strangle Albert. Perhaps she saw his face, and he didn't want a witness left who could identify him."

"I see," Sandy muttered.

"Would you open the safe, please?"

Sandy knelt and, from memory, worked the combination, then swung open the door.

Duvivier pointed a small flashlight at the interior. "Would you see if there is anything missing, please?"

Sandy looked into the safe, then extracted a velvet-lined tray.

"A necklace of diamonds and sapphires and a matching bracelet are both gone; they fit these indentations here. Joan had the trays made to accommodate specific pieces. I believe she was already wearing her diamond wristwatch."

"Then he waited until she had opened and closed the safe before he attacked her," Duvivier said. "Your wife was wearing no jewelry, so the pieces you mentioned were taken by the intruder."

"Oh," Sandy said, "she always wore her wedding and engagement rings. They were platinum and diamonds, and the engagement ring had a fine, emerald-cut diamond of about five carats."

"fa there anything special about these pieces that would make them easy to identify?" Duvivier asked.

"The rings had her initials, J.A.B.K., engraved inside, but I suppose the diamond could be extracted and sold. The watch had her name engraved on the back. But the necklace and bracelet have been photographed. They both belonged to the late Duchess of Windsor; Joan bought them at auction at Sotheby's some years ago. Both pieces appeared in the catalogue."

"That will be helpful," Duvivier said.

"Also, we gave the insurance company photographs of some pieces years ago, and I think the rings and the watch may have been among them."

Duvivier turned and faced Sandy. "Mr. Kinsolving, did you have anything to do with your wife's death?"

Sandy looked directly at the detective and all expression left his face. "Certainly not," he said firmly.

The two detectives got into their car and drove toward the precinct.

"Okay, Al, what do you think?" Leary asked.

"We still have to talk to the chauffeur and the brother-in-law and the custodian and the wife's lover and all the relatives," Duvivier said.

"Come on, Al," Leary laughed, "You got a famous nose. What does your nose tell you?"

Duvivier shrugged. "Kinsolving did it, but we won't be able to prove it."

"No shit?"

"Pas de merde."

Sandy sat and looked at his son and his brother-in-law. The three of them of them sat in the study, half-empty glasses of Bailley's Single Malt Scotch Whisky in their hands.

"I still can't believe it," Angus said.

"Neither can I," said Laddie.

"I know how you both feel," Sandy replied.

"What do you think are the chances of the cops catching the guy, Dad?" Angus asked.

"I don't know, really; the police didn't say anything about that. When he tries to sell the jewelry, though, that could get him caught."

Laddie shook his head. "He won't do that, if he has any sense; he'll break up the pieces and sell the stones separately."

"I suppose so," Sandy replied.

"God, as if one death in the family wasn't enough," Laddie said.

"Laddie," Sandy said, "since you've already been through making Jock's arrangements, I'd be very grateful if you'd do the same for Joan."

"Of course, Sandy. Do you have any preferences?"

Angus spoke up. "Why not just do the same as for Grandad? I'll volunteer to take the ashes to Scotland and bury them together."

"I think Joan would approve of that," Sandy said. "Thank you, son."

"I'll see to it," Laddie said, then made as if to get up. "I'd better get home and break the news to Betty."

"Before you go, Laddie, there's something I have to say to both of you." Sandy took a deep breath; he had been dreading this. "It's bound to become public knowledge, and I think it's better if you hear it from me."

Both men looked at Sandy expectantly.

"After our lunch of earlier this week, Joan told me that she intended to divorce me."

"What?" Angus blurted out.

"I know, it came as something of a surprise to me, too," Sandy said. "I think we had fallen into the usual ruts that so many long-married couples do, and that made Joan vulnerable."

"Vulnerable to what?" Angus asked.

"Another relationship. Joan told me that she had been seeing Terrell duBois, and my impression was that, after some interval, she planned to marry him."

"Is that the guy you compete with in the wine business?" Angus asked.

"Yes, that's the one." Sandy noted that Laddie had said nothing, had expressed no surprise. What he had to say next might make a dent. "The police asked me if I had anything to do with Joan's death. I suppose they had to do that in the normal course of events."

A longer silence than Sandy would have liked ensued before Laddie spoke up. "But you were on the telephone with me," he said. "You couldn't have done it."

"I think that, after hearing of Joan's intentions, they thought that I, perhaps, had hired someone to do her in."

"That's ridiculous," Angus said immediately.

"Preposterous," Laddie agreed, after only a short pause.

"Thank you both for that, but I think you had better be prepared to see the possibility aired in the media. I'm assuming that they'll hear the details of the investigation; they seem to hear of everything these days."

"Well," Laddie said, "whatever has passed between you and Joan, I want you to know that no one who knows you at all could ever believe for a moment that you caused her death, and if I'm asked by anyone, I'll certainly say that."

"I appreciate your support, Laddie," Sandy said.

The three sat in silence for a moment, then Sandy spoke again. "Angus, you look all in; why don't you stay here tonight? Your room is always made up."

Angus rose. "Thanks, Dad, I'll take you up on that. All this has had the effect of exhausting me." He shook hands with his uncle, hugged his father, and went off to bed.

Laddie rose. "I'd better be off."

"Laddie," Sandy said, rising with him, "I expect Joan told you of some of this."

Laddie shrugged. "I was shocked, of course, but I didn't think I should say anything to you until she had spoken."

"She said the two of you wanted to buy me out."

"She said something about it to me, but I had by no means agreed; I would have talked with you first. I had planned to raise the subject on Monday."

"I think she would have asked you to sell the wine division to Terrell duBois."

Laddie looked guilty for a moment. "And undercut you? I'd never have done that."

Sandy didn't believe him for a moment. "Thank you, Laddie. I'll come in on Monday, and we'll talk."

"Of course, Sandy, but don't feel pressured to come in. I won't make any changes without consulting you."

The two men shook hands, and Laddie took his leave.

Sandy went to his desk and dug in the bottom drawer for copies of his and Joan's wills; the police had taken the originals from the safe. He sat down and read through Joan's document. It was the same one she had signed some five years before. He hoped to God that some lawyer would not come out of the woods with a newly executed document. That would make things very complicated indeed.