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The powder pattern shows that the fatal bullet was fired from a distance of eighteen to twenty inches. Furthermore, Roxy Claffin has an ironclad alibi and Doxey has an alibi. He was out taking a sun bath and— Throw enough wrenches in the machinery so that Roxy knows shes in for trouble. Do everything you can to embarrass her. Beat what out of him? Stone asked. Patroon? Seven-thirty? He tapped on her bedroom door and called out her name. Jesus, I said, whos paying them? I dont see what that has to do with it. I think Ill pass, I said. She drank her margarita after gumming the salty edges, then squeezed the lime wedge over the chips and dug into the guac. He watched her do this, and then looked out to the water for a moment before glancing back at her. Sybil Harlan stood in the doorway. Her face was a frozen mask. Devine had a terrible thought.Wait a minute, he didnt— Did you find any? The tall one was Ralph Shoemaker, the shorter one Paul Ekman. They were assigned to the NYPDs Homicide Squad and were investigating Sara Ewess death, Shoemaker said. His voice was low but sharp. Ekmans was even sharper, with a helping of falsetto on certain words. Whether that was for effect or had something to do with his vocal cords, Devine didn’t know or care. Yes? She was wearing sandals, jeans and a crisp, white short-sleeved blouse. The breakfast Nan had prepared for her was down to a single half-slice of toast. A delicately sculpted silver coffeepot was next to her on the table. The beautiful blue of cigarette smoke coiled up from a tiny faux Mandarin-style ashtray. There was a symphony of morning birds and the cool, thin shadows of early morning. It was so idyllic, it was easy to forget that the woman sitting here had almost been shot to death less than twelve hours ago. Who owns this place? I asked Corsing as we followed the young man down the hall. The young lady who called didnt say...