“This is Detective Oliver,” Decker said. “You know Detective McAdams and me.” He looked around. “Are you alone?”

“My parents are out.”

“That’s not what he asked,” Oliver said. “He asked if you were alone.”

The group heard a door open and turned to the source of the sound. “It’s all right, Tee.” The voice was male, and he slowly ambled his way down the hall until the long hair came into view. He was sloppily dressed but the material was expensive. When he stepped into the living room, Decker said, “Hello, Livingston. What brings you here?”

Sobel didn’t answer. Instead, he sat down on the couch and poured brandy into one of the used snifters. His eyes went to McAdams. “What happened to you?”

“I was shot: the leg, the arm, and a graze to the head. I wouldn’t recommend it even for verisimilitude in a screenplay. The dude was serious.”

Sobel went mute. Terry sank down next to him. His voice was a whisper. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Why’d you take a leave of absence, Lance?” Decker asked.

It took him a while to find his voice. “I needed a break.”

“In your senior year of college?” Oliver asked.

“It wasn’t just Angeline’s death, it was the way she died. Everything went weird, the way people looked at each other, the way they looked at me! I had to get out.”

“What can you tell me about her murder?” Oliver asked.

“Nothing!” The room went silent. Finally, Terry said, “You guys know I couldn’t have done anything. You checked out my schedule. I was totally telling the truth. I don’t know anything!”

“Detective Decker filled me in, but I’m new here,” Oliver said. “You said people went weird after the murder. Maybe your friends have theories about Angeline?”

“You name it, they said it. She was everything from a prostitute and a drug dealer to a spy working for the CIA. And everyone was coming up to me for answers, like I was holding back. I’m sure some idiots think my absence means I’m guilty of something. But I swear I don’t know any more than anyone else. The break is temporary. I’m coming back for spring semester.”

Decker looked at Terry, then at Sobel. “So when did you two get so tight.”

“I called him up when I came back home,” Terry said. “We both knew Angeline. I . . . just wanted to talk to him.”

“You were suspicious of me,” Sobel said. “You were feeling me out.”

“And you were feeling me out,” Terry said.

“Fair enough.” Sobel regarded Decker. “It appears we’re both in the dark.” He swallowed hard. “We heard that the Latham guy got chopped up.”

Decker said, “Who told you that?”

“Word gets around,” Terry said.

“I know people in Summer Village,” Sobel said.

“He wasn’t chopped up,” Decker said. “But he wasn’t pretty to look at, either.”

“Oh God!” Terry hit his forehead. “Why are you here? I hadn’t been with Angeline for over a year . . . longer.”

Decker nodded to McAdams who said, “I was in Rayfield Library this morning—the reference desk.”

Terry shrugged. “Good for you.”

“I was looking for a specific book called the History of Iconography.” When Terry didn’t respond, McAdams said, “Want to tell us about it, Lance?”

“Tell you what?” A pause. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t remember a book you checked out only two months ago?”

A pause. “Is this some kind of trap?”

“Let’s try it again. The History of Iconography by Nikolai Petroshkovich.” The boy looked blank. “Doesn’t ring any bells?”

“Not a one.”

“You need to sign your name on an index card to check out this particular book because it’s very valuable. It’s worth six figures.”

“Interesting but it has nothing to do with me.”

McAdams licked his lips. “Your name was on one of the index cards.”

“You must have misread the card.”

“No, I did not misread the card. Furthermore, the school ID number belongs to you. Try again.”

“What was the book again?”

“The History of Iconography by Nikolai Petroshkovich. Published in 1926. An old art book with original plates?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never checked out a book on iconography. I have no interest in iconography. I’m not even sure what an icon is. If you suspect it has something to do with Angeline’s murder, then maybe she put my name . . .” He fell silent.

“What?” Decker asked.

“That little bitch!” Terry’s face turned dark. “That scheming little bitch!” He sat down so that he was eye level with McAdams. “Angeline asked me if I could check out a reference book for her—for her thesis. She told me she’d do it herself, but she already had too many reference books out and they wouldn’t let her check out any more. She caught me at a weak moment . . . on purpose . . . fucking whore!”

“Go on,” McAdams said. “She asked you to check out a book for her and . . .”

“I don’t remember the title and I don’t remember the author. All I remember is that the book came in a big, wooden box and we had to wear gloves to look at it. We weren’t even allowed to take it out of the reference library. She looked at it for about an hour, put it back in the box, and gave it back to me and that was that.”

“So you were with her when she went through the pages?” McAdams asked.

“I was there but I wasn’t sitting next to her. I sat at a different table across the room.”

“Why was that?” Oliver asked.

“She didn’t want me around! I sat next to her at first. But then she told me it made her nervous to have me peering over her shoulder. I wasn’t peering over her shoulder. I wasn’t even paying attention to her. I took out my computer and was playing a video game. So then the bitch told me I was making too much noise, which was ridiculous because I had the sound on mute. When I pointed that out, she had the nerve to tell me that the typing was too loud. So I moved to another table. I woulda left altogether but I had to return the damn book. The area is in a cage and you can’t get out unless someone unlocks it.”

“That’s true,” McAdams said. “You didn’t think that her behavior was strange?”

“She was always acting strange . . . hot one minute, aloof the next. I have no idea why I didn’t tell her to fuck off. I suppose I was hoping for another go-around. But obviously she only fucked me to get to the book. I swear I don’t know who murdered her, but I’m sure that it musta been someone she pissed off!”

McAdams said, “And after my experience, I’d say he’s still pissed off.”

Terry blanched. “Sorry.”

McAdams said, “Not your fault.”

To Tyler, Sobel said, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Decker said, “Lance, can you walk us through the day she asked you to check the book out for her?”

“Uh, I’m assuming you’re not interested in the sex part.”

“I want a timeline for you. If you two had sex, I want to know when and where.”

“This was a while back.”

“Take your time,” Decker said.

“I guess we hooked up around eleven. I remember because I skipped my class. It took about an hour. Afterward, she said something about working on her senior thesis and that she needed to go to the library.”

“And you said?”

“I said okay. See you later or something like that. Then she must have asked me if I was busy because I remember asking her what she wanted.”

Decker was taking notes. “Okay. Go on.”

“She said ‘I need a favor’—in those words, ‘I need a favor.’ I asked what and she said that she needed a specific reference book for her thesis. But she had checked too many books out already. Could I check a book out for her? And since she had just done me a favor—mutual favors I’d like to think—anyway, I was in a good mood so I said sure. Because it wasn’t outrageous that she’d be working on her thesis. She worked a lot and she often worked in Rayfield.”

“Okay,” Decker said. “So then what did you do?”