"Do you know how Mr. Trumble learned about the dosage error?" Marco asked.

"I sure don't."

"Did you have a conversation with Jerry that might have tipped him off?" Marco asked.

She looked confused. "Are you asking if I told Jerry that Lori gave his wife the overdose? No!"

"Did you say anything to him at his wife's funeral that might have led him to believe Lori had a hand in Dana Trumble's death?" Marco asked.

"No! Jerry asked me if I knew that Lori had given his wife the heparin. All I said to him was that I didn't know anything about it and I was sorry for his loss. I only knew them through the Lamaze cla.s.s I taught when Dana was pregnant."

"Would you have said something to Jerry to get back at Lori?" I asked.

"Get back at her for what? Dana died while Lori and I were still at County, well before the director's position became available. Look, even if I had known something about Dana's death, I wouldn't have told Jerry about it. I'd have gone to my supervisor."

Marco wrote it down. "Last question, and this is just a formality. I know you've already given a statement, but would you tell us where you were last Tuesday night?"

"I spent the night at my boyfriend's place. We had dinner with another couple and spent the evening playing the Wii. I didn't come back here until after work on Wednesday. I'll be glad to provide names and numbers so you can check."

Marco took down the information, thanked her, handed her his card, and told her to contact him if she thought of anything else.

"I vote for crossing Diane off the list," I said to Marco as we headed for his car. "She doesn't strike me as a vengeful person, and her motive is weak."

"First we need to give her friends a call to check out her alibi. Remember, verify everything."

"Diane also denied what Jerry told us about her encouraging him to file the suit. So why would he tell us something that could be disproved?"

"That's Diane's version, don't forget. That's why we-"

"I know. Verify everything. What do you think Diane was hinting at when she told us to dig deeper into Holloway's medical conference?"

"Someone must have told her he showed up for the conference but didn't attend the sessions. My guess is he was engaged in an activity that would get him-or whoever he was with-into trouble."

"Such as having an affair with a coworker?"

"Or gambling, meeting a lover, flying home to commit murder. Someone else knows what he was doing."

"How do we find out who it is? Diane's not going to give up the name."

"Maybe we won't need the name. Maybe all we'll need to do is make Holloway believe we know who it is."

Marco helped me into the car, and then we headed for the casino to try to catch Dr. Speedo in his lie.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

My ankle was aching after hobbling around Lori's neighborhood, but during the half-hour drive, I felt better. In fact, I was eager to confront Holloway, especially with the plan Marco and I had devised. I couldn't wait to see the doctor's face when he saw us again.

It was worth the effort. Holloway was seated at one of the blackjack tables looking quite pleased with the play he'd just made when I took an empty seat at the table. Holloway glanced at me, then did a double take.

"Doctor," I said with a nod.

Before he could react, Marco clamped a hand on his shoulder, causing Holloway to turn with a jerk. Instantly, his face darkened in fury. "What are you doing here?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"We could ask you the same thing," I said.

"We need to talk," Marco said.

Holloway did a quick survey of the others at his table, as though to see if anyone was watching him, then said out of the side of his mouth, "What about?"

Marco bent down near his ear. "Lori Willis's murder."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Pick your spot, Doc," Marco said. "Here or at the bar." He patted Holloway's shoulder, giving the impression to anyone observing their exchange that they were buddies.

"You have no right to question me," Holloway said in a furious whisper.

"Here, then," Marco said, and looked around for a chair.

"I'll report you to security and have you tossed out."

"You do that," I said, "and I'll report you to the hospital administrator for putting the moves on me." I held up my cell phone. "Amazing what these smart phones can do. Take pictures, record conversations . . ." Not that I had a smart phone. Not on my salary.

Holloway threw down his cards and got up, making a beeline for the bar. Marco helped me get settled on my crutches; then we followed him to where he'd perched at the end of the long polished-walnut counter. The only other patrons, two women who were on the lookout for available men, and a drunk who had his elbows propped on the wood to keep from falling onto his shot gla.s.s, were well outside of hearing range.

"I should have you arrested for hara.s.sment," Holloway ground out, as we sat on the next two stools.

"Two ginger ales," Marco told the bartender.

"Sir?" the bartender said, waiting for Holloway's order.

"Vodka gimlet," Holloway grumbled. Without looking at Marco, he said, "I can't tell you anything about that woman's death. What business is it of yours anyway?"

Marco opened his wallet to show his ID. "I'm investigating her murder. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Holloway looked at it askance. "So you're a private eye? Big deal."

"Did you kill her?" Marco asked.

"Of course not! I had no reason to kill her!" Holloway said, raising his voice. That got everyone's attention, including the drunk, who sat upright and tried to focus on us. He gave up after a minute and went back to leaning on his elbows.

"That's not the impression you gave me," I reminded Holloway. "You told me Lori nearly ruined your career. You said she caused you deep humiliation, financial problems, and a divorce."

"It all adds up to a powerful motive," Marco said. He waited while the bartender delivered our drinks, then said, "That leaves just means and opportunity, Doc, and I'm betting you're up to speed on knowing how to do some bloodletting. Isn't that the word you use for exsanguination?"

"Who told you that?"

"Let's talk about your alibi," Marco said.

"My alibi is sound!" Holloway dropped his voice to a whisper. "I was out of town attending a medical conference last Tuesday and Wednesday and didn't get home until late Wednesday evening."

"Try again," Marco said.

"I beg your pardon?"

Marco took a drink of his soda. "Try again."

"Check with the cops if you doubt me," Holloway said. "Or call the American Heart a.s.sociation. They'll tell you I was at the conference."

"The only thing the AHA will tell me is that someone signed you in at the conference registration desk on Tuesday."

"You want a handwriting sample? Here. I'll provide one for you free of charge." Holloway pulled a gold pen out of his chest pocket, scribbled his name on his c.o.c.ktail napkin, and shoved it toward Marco, who folded it and tucked it away without looking at it.

"Even if the signature matches, Doc, can you prove where you were when you were supposed to be in those sessions?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Marco leaned closer to him. "I know a person who knows what I'm talking about, and I think you know that person, too."

It was a good bluff. The muscles in Holloway's face tensed. He drank half his gimlet and signaled for another. "What do you want from me?"

"Proof that you didn't kill Lori Willis."

Holloway studied Marco as he toyed with the olive spear in his drink. Then, as though he'd made a decision, he turned away, ate the olives, finished the drink, and pushed the gla.s.s aside. A sly grin played at one corner of his mouth.

At the same time, Marco glanced at me long enough to give me a wink, as though he was certain the doctor was about to come clean. I wondered if he'd seen Holloway's grin.

"I can't prove it," Holloway said.

Marco didn't say a word. I knew he'd been caught off guard.

The doctor shrugged. "So what now? Call the cops and have me arrested?"

This time it was Marco's jaw that tensed. Holloway had outsmarted us. He obviously felt confident that whoever our purported source was, he or she couldn't do the doctor any harm, just as Holloway knew there was nothing we could do to him either. He threw a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, picked up his fresh drink, slid off the barstool, and sauntered toward the blackjack table, leaving Marco stewing.

"Looks like we're going to have to find that source," I said.

"Unless we can positively rule him out." Marco got up. "I think I know how to do it. I'll be right back. I'm going to make a phone call. Sit tight."

As I sipped my soda, waiting for Marco to return, I noticed the drunk staring at me. He saw me glance his way and gave me a lopsided smile. I looked away. Next thing I knew, he was clambering down from his stool and staggering toward me. Great.

I reached for my crutches, but Marco beat me to it, helping me down from the stool just as the man reached us. "Hey, buddy," the drunk said, "I (hic) saw her first."

Although I'd always dreamed of being fought over by two men, this wasn't exactly how I'd pictured it happening.

Marco ignored the guy and ushered me away. "We've got an hour before our meeting at the coffee shop, so the security guards are going to let us use the upstairs room again to review Tuesday evening's video. I asked to start with the parking lot tapes. This time we're looking for two men-Holloway and Trumble."

We proceeded up to the second floor and sat at the same monitor, where a cooperative security guard got us set up. Marco fast-forwarded through the video as much as possible, slowing it down only when someone approached or exited the boat.

At six fifteen, we saw Jerry Trumble get out of a small car, glance around, then move swiftly through the parking lot and up the ramp into the boat. Marco handed me the notepad and pen, and I wrote down the time. We watched as the parking lot filled up and people made their way to the boat, but none of their faces was familiar.

Just after nine o'clock, an emergency rescue van pulled up to the ramp; then the paramedic riding shotgun got out and walked into the casino. Marco stopped the tape, then zoomed in. "Who does that look like?"

"Kyle."

Marco studied the image a moment longer. "Note the time and that the emergency lights weren't activated."

Three minutes later, Kyle exited the boat, got into the van, and then the vehicle left.

"Why would a rescue van stop at a casino if they weren't responding to an emergency call?" I asked.

"I don't know, but if they were responding to an emergency, they'd have had lights going."

"Could Kyle have been looking for Lori?"

"Maybe Kyle's partner can answer that one." Marco started the video again, fast-forwarding and pausing, checking everybody who entered or left. We were well past the midnight mark and Holloway still hadn't appeared, nor had Jerry Trumble left the boat. Once again we saw the figure in the black trench coat enter the picture, head toward Lori's car, then vanish behind the gray van parked beside her.

Marco checked his watch and stopped the tape. "We'd better quit so we can make our meeting. I'll come back in the morning to watch the rest. With any luck, Trumble will stop at the coffee shop tonight, and we can have another chat with him."

Marco parked around the corner from the Daily Grind, then turned up his collar and took a cap from the glove compartment. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

I watched in the side mirror as he donned the cap, then walked to the corner and peered around it, as though scoping out the front of the coffee shop. He returned a few minutes later to help me get balanced on the crutches.

"The EMT's name is J.C. He's sitting against the back wall. You can't miss him. He has red hair. Tell him I'm looking for a parking s.p.a.ce."

"Where are you going?"

"I want to watch the shop for a while, make sure Kyle doesn't show up."

"Are you expecting him to?"

"J.C. and Kyle are partners and may be good friends, in which case Kyle will know about our meeting and may try to disrupt it. Also, Kyle may have told J.C. how to answer our questions. Remember, whenever you interview a suspect's friend or family member, antic.i.p.ate lies. An investigator's job is to dig under the lie to find the truth."

"I don't know if I'm experienced enough for that, Marco."

He cupped my face with his hands. "Sure you are, sweetheart. You're a natural."

Was that a synonym for nosy?

Marco kissed me, then walked me to the corner and glanced around it. "There are two people walking toward the shop. They should reach the door in time to open it for you. Go!"