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know. He didn’t talk to me about it. He grumbled about her from time to time but when I pressed him he would not explain his complaints. He would not answer my questions.’
    ‘You think Frank is capable of committing murder?’
    ‘I think Frank can do anything he sets his mind to. He is a powerful and persistent man. I’ve seen him destroy other people – not physically but financially, emotionally – just because they were in his way. He is heartless. You see how he betrayed me.’
    ‘And you want to spend the rest of your life with this man?’
    ‘Not anymore. He has trivialized our relationship.’
    ‘That bothers you more than the fact that he is a suspect in the death of his wife?’
    ‘Well, if he did it for love – if he did it for me – it wouldn’t be right but I could understand. I could forgive him,’ she said in a whisper.
    ‘I doubt if Candace Eagleton would if she could. And if he is responsible, the State of Virginia won’t be so gracious either. And that goes for you as well, Miss Flowers. If we learn you played any small role in that woman’s death – even simply that you possessed foreknowledge of the crime – there will be no forgiveness for you either.’
    ‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ she said, her lips forming a pout.
    ‘Let’s not exaggerate, Miss Flowers.’
    ‘Well, consenting adults and all that – maybe you are not sophisticated enough to understand.’
    Lucinda laughed at that statement coming from a young secretary in her early twenties. ‘Fine, Miss Flowers. Here’s my card. If you think of any odd, unusual or unexpected behavior by Mr Eagleton, please give me a call. Maybe when you grow up a bit, your moral compass won’t wobble so badly.’
    ‘What?’
    Lucinda shook her head and left the apartment. April shouted down the hall, ‘What do you mean?’

SIX
     
    J ake walked into his Spartan apartment, wondering once again why he wasn’t more motivated to make the space more personal – more like home. It was a perfectly good unit with a lot of potential but it felt like a way station. A place to sleep, work and waste time. He didn’t feel as if he lived here. One more time, he promised himself that he’d spend the weekend getting some of his belongings out of storage.
    He grabbed a beer and the stack of mail he picked up at his box on his way inside. He set aside a telephone bill, tossed the junk mail in the recycling bin and placed the latest issue of Sports Illustrated beside his recliner. All that remained was a small envelope addressed to him in careful block printing. The return address made him smile – it was a note from Charley Spencer.
    He pulled out a thank-you card. Inside it was filled with labored cursive writing. It was obvious Charley had taken great care to make her words neat and legible. A faint scent hit his nose. He pulled the card up to his nose and sniffed – lavender. He chuckled.
    She thanked him for talking to her class on career day. Everybody said you were cool. They thought I was lying when I said I knew an FBI agent – now they believe me . She signed it: Your best friend’s best friend, Charley Spencer .
    He used a magnet to pin the note to the refrigerator, wondering when he’d be able to show it to Lucinda. When she cancelled their dinner dates, he didn’t like it but he understood. Hot on the trail of a new investigation, she might not even give him a passing thought. That’s always the way it was with her. And, he had to admit, he was just the same. It made it difficult to build a relationship. He thought again about suggesting that they live together on a trial basis.
    Even if they called it a trial, he knew it would be more than that. It would be a test drive on an obstacle course – a reckless leap into commitment. Should he ask? Was he ready? Was she ready? He shook his head, deciding not to decide once again.
    He grabbed another Dos Equis from the refrigerator and sat down to read his magazine. By the time Lucinda