"And which school are you a proponent of?" Mac asked.

"I let the patient's feeling lead me. Within reason."

"Of course you do."

The man's adversarial tone took Jane aback. She saw that it did Ian, as well. He looked unnerved.

Uncomfortable.

"Was she having any troubles that you knew of?" Stacy asked softly, almost apologetically.

Good cop, bad cop, Jane realized. But why play the game at all? Why were they really here?

"Not that I knew of."

"Man problems?"

"Again, not that I knew of."

"Anyone special in her life?"

"I'm sorry, Stacy, we didn't have that kind of relationship."

"What can you tell us about her husbands?"

"She was married twice. The first time when she was young. I'm thinking they'd been divorced a long

time. That it was as amiable as these things get."

"And the second?"

He thought a moment, as if working to remember. "More recent. Less amiable. A lot less. But I can't

recall specifics."

"Any children?"

"No."

"What kind of people did she hang with? Anyone you would characterize as edgy? Off center or

dangerous?"

"Elle? No way. She was extremely image conscious. Money mattered to her. She liked nice things. Both

her husbands were successful, straight-arrow types. She dated doctors, businessmen. Guys like that."

"You're a guy like that."

He stiffened. "But I was her doctor."

"She talked about them? The guys?"

Ian looked uncomfortable. "Sometimes. I ran into her out sometimes. Art openings, the theater. A charity

event."

"And she was with a date?"

"Yes."

"The same guy all three times?"

"No. All different."

"Would you remember-"

"Their names?" He shook his head. "Sorry."

"The last time you saw her, did she seem different from previous appointments?"

He didn't answer immediately. When he did, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. Same old Elle. I really wish I

could help you."

Stacy stood. Mac followed her to her feet. "If you think of anything, will you call us?"

"Of course." They started toward the door. Ranger trotted beside them. When they reached it, Mac

handed Ian his card.

Ian glanced at the card, then back at the detectives. "I can't believe Elle's dead. How did she...what

happened?"

"I'm sorry, Ian," Stacy answered, "we can't talk about it."

He looked fl.u.s.tered, opened the door. "I understand. It's just so...hard to believe."

Mac and Stacy stepped through. She glanced at Jane. "Let's get together soon."

"That'd be great." Jane forced a smile. "We could go to lunch."

Stacy agreed, took another step, then stopped and turned back. "One last thing, Ian. Was your

relationship with Elle Vanmeer anything but professional?"

"Excuse me?"

"Was your relationship with Elle Vanmeer anything but professional?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Never. Why do you ask?

"Just covering all the bases, that's all."

Jane stared at her sister, a chill inching up her spine. The question seemed inappropriate, out of step with

the others. Besides, why would it have mattered, even if he had?

Not liking the answer, she watched her sister walk away.

TEN.

Monday, October 20, 2003.

8:25 p.m.

The temperature had dropped while they were inside. Stacy shivered and pulled her tweed jacket tighter around her. From Elm Street came the sound of jazz. A car sped past, the driver blowing the horn at a young woman with spiky orange hair. Bozo with b.o.o.bs, Stacy thought.

They crossed to Mac's Ford, parked at the curb. Stacy went around to the pa.s.senger side and climbed in. They slammed their car doors in unison.

Mac glanced at her. "What do you think?" he asked.

She fastened her seat belt, then met his gaze. "About what?"

"Was the good doctor telling the truth about his relationship with the vie?"

Stacy frowned. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"Lots of reasons. Maybe." He shoved the keys into the ignition.

"He was telling the truth."

Mac made no move to start the car, but instead squinted out the windshield.

She watched him, frowning. "What?"

"When you asked the question, he looked strange."

"Strange how?"

"Like a man working hard to look innocent."