“Apparently not because Peter is putting you back to work.” When Tyler perked up, she said, “He wants us to start going through the reference library books tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right. Busy work.”

“Which is 90 percent of detective work.” She mussed his hair. “You know, I got a call from the provost of the college. He’s not happy about our having an armed guard with us. I reminded him that one of his students was murdered and the case is still unsolved.”

“So what did he say?”

“Not much . . . a little bluster followed by a lot of BS. But he didn’t say no, so you and I have a date with some musty old books.”

“Best offer I’ve had in a year.”

The front door opened and Rina pulled out a drawer and extracted a revolver. Tyler’s eyes went wide. She put her finger to her lips.

“Hello?”

Peter’s voice. Rina stowed the gun back in the drawer and shouted, “In the kitchen.”

Decker stepped in a moment later and kissed his wife. “Hello, gorgeous.” To Tyler. “How are you feeling, Harvard?”

“No one wants to hear my bitchin’ so I guess all right.”

Decker smiled. “Is Scott here?”

“He arrived around five minutes ago,” Rina said. “He’s settling into his room.”

Decker took off his coat and scarf. “I’ll just hang these up and go say hello.” To Tyler, he said, “Seriously. Are you feeling better?”

“Ready to take on the library, Old Man.” A pause. “Actually, it’ll feel good to do something even if it’s menial.”

“It’s not menial, but it is tedious. Get to know your adjectives.”

“Did you hear back from Professor Gold about the codebook?”

“Mulrooney gave him a copy, but I don’t know if he’s looked at it yet. I’m planning to see him tomorrow. Maybe being there in person will spur him on. I need a warm body in the car with me before Mike and my wife will let me go do my job. Scott will serve that purpose.”

“I’m sure.” McAdams looked pissed.. “For one thing, he knows how to shoot.”

Rina patted the kid’s shoulder. “Anything new with the case. Peter?”

“Well . . . we’ve called just about every hospital within a hundred-mile radius and have come up empty. Maybe I just grazed him.”

“I heard the unmistakable thud, Peter. You definitely hit bone.”

“You can’t go around for long with a gunshot wound. He has to have been treated somewhere. Maybe he has a private doctor who knows how to extract bullets and doesn’t ask too many questions.”

Rina said, “Someone he knew he could go to in case he got shot?”

“Yep.” Decker turned to McAdams. “That’s why I’m thinking a group of people are involved.”

“And you’re wondering why I don’t want you traveling by yourself,” Rina said.

“I’ll be fine.” Decker knew he shouldn’t be talking in front of her. After what happened four days ago, she was still scared. But often she had interesting things to add. More important, it wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark when she could be in danger. She should know everything he knew, which, at the moment, was paltry.

“Are you interested in dinner?” Rina asked.

Mercifully, she had switched the conversation. Decker said, “Always.”

“Then go change. I just have to warm everything up.”

“Need help?”

“You can set the table.”

“I can do that,” McAdams said.

“You baked the cake, he can set the table.”

Decker grinned. “You baked a cake?”

“Apple with a cinnamon streusel,” McAdams said. “Damn good especially considering I did it from a sitting position.”

“That is a feat. Did you meet Scott?”

“Not yet. I figure we’ll be forced to talk to each other over dinner.”

“It won’t be a strain. He’s a friendly guy, Tyler.”

“He may be . . . but I’m not.”

AFTER A GOOD meal and flowing wine, Oliver had shed ten years in his face.

In vino veritas.

Decker cleared the dishes while Rina brought out coffee and Tyler’s cake. “I’m full right now. I’ll leave you gentlemen to your business.”

“Not this time.” Decker patted her seat. “You need to know what’s going on.”

“He’s right,” McAdams said. “Someone tried to kill you. And I’ll be insulted if you don’t try my cake.”

“And here I was thinking I could eat it by myself with a big cup of coffee.” She turned to Oliver. “The one thing about living in a cold climate is the sheer joy of curling up in front of a fire with dessert and a good book.”

“You know how I hate to get you involved, Rina, but this is an exception.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “And I can always use a different point of view.”

“I can grow six inches and pretend I’m Marge.” Rina poured coffee for all and then she sat down. “Marge was the designated barista and I’m sure not by choice.”

“I made coffee.” Decker was offended.

“Not cappuccino.”

“No, not that. But I made many a pot of rotgut coffee in my time at LAPD. And speaking of Marge, I got a report on Chase Goddard. Hold on, I’ll go get it.”

“Who’s on watch tonight?” McAdams asked.

“Sam Brook.”

“Sam?” He shook his head. “All righty dighty.”

“What’s wrong with Sam Brook?” Rina asked.

“Nothing if you like your guards around twelve years old and weighing ninety pounds.”

Decker said, “He’s a good shot.”

“Well . . . then he has one up on me.”

After Decker left, Oliver turned to McAdams. “How do you feel?”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. Deck likes working with you.”

“Now that’s a lie.”

“No, it isn’t. He didn’t at first, but now he does. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Decker didn’t tell you about the case?”

“Of course he did. But I’d like to hear what you have to say.” Oliver took out a notepad. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Let me go get my iPad . . . which I should have had with me.” He wheeled himself from the dining room and down the hallway.

Decker came back. “Where’d the kid go?”

“To fetch his iPad. Then he’s going to give me a rundown on the case.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good for him to do it, good for Rina to hear the basics, and good for us to hear his point of view.”

“Still got the gray matter, Scott.” Decker grinned. “It matches your hair.”

“Excuse me, Mr. AARP, I think going au naturel shows the sign of a confident man.” No one spoke. “Do they sell Grecian formula here?”

“Yes.” Rina sliced the cake. “The population here is either college age or retirement age with very little in between.”

McAdams returned and proceeded to give a complete recap up to the point of his getting shot.

Oliver tapped his pencil against his pad. “You didn’t see anything?”

“As soon as I heard the noise, I locked myself in the closet.”

“Why?”

“Because Decker had spooked me with the silver van that was tailing us, and it was a good thing he did.” He looked down. “He tried to shoot the lock, but the closet is double reinforced wood and has a Medico.”

“What was in there that’s so valuable?” Oliver asked McAdams.

“I have a safe with a lot of cash.” No one spoke. “Fifty grand.”

“Whoa!” Oliver said. “That’s a lot of greenery to keep around. Maybe someone was out to rob you, son.”

“My first thought . . . until Decker showed up. Besides no one knew about the money.”

“What’s wrong with the bank?” Decker said.

“People talk around here . . . even bank tellers. I was hoping to fly under the radar.”

“It’s true,” Rina said. “People do talk.”

Oliver turned back to McAdams. “What else do you remember?”

“Not much after I got shot. Sorry.”

Rina distributed slices of the cake, licking her fingers when she was done. “So any theories as to what’s going on?”

“The whole thing sounds nutty,” Oliver said. “If you’re a professional, the last thing you want is attention from the heat. And the quickest way to bring heat on is to take swipes at police officers.”

“In America, that’s true,” Decker said. “Only stupid people try to bring down cops. Not so in foreign countries. Look at Mexico or Latin America. Gangs and cartels are always taking down cops.”