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said Dehan with another sigh, “there are all the other people on her list of pupils and, if you want to feel really demoralized, all her fans.”

I shook my head. “Unless we are dealing with a highly skilled stalker, I think we can discount her fans. This killer was familiar enough with Jack’s movements to know that he was leaving for lunch, something, remember, he did not often do.”

“That’s true.”

“Not only that, Dehan, he was able to kidnap him, drug him and transport him to a quiet, secluded place in very little time, hardly leaving a trace of his—or her—presence.”

“That takes a lot of skill, or at least detailed prior knowledge of his movements.”

“So we are either looking at somebody with professional skills, such as a mercenary…”

“Yeah, you know, when you put it like that, it does kind of point pretty strongly to either Penelope or Shaw. Shaw has the kind of guys who could carry out an execution like that, and…” She stopped, turned to look at me and shrugged. “Are we being a bit blind, Stone? I mean, where the hell was he going, if not to meet Penelope?”

I nodded. “And so far we have had no indication that he had any other lover at the time.”

We sped over dappled shadows on the blacktop between tall walls of trees that towered over us on either side. She puffed out her cheeks and blew. “So, this suddenly looks pretty obvious, Stone. It’s either A or B, right. I mean, A, she tells Jack Connors how she feels about him and that she wants to marry him. He blows her off. She freaks out, meets Shaw, lets off steam trying to forget Jack but she can’t—to the point where she actually tells Shaw she is going to marry Jack. Next day, she calls Jack and arranges to meet him to talk. He comes to her apartment, she drugs him, kills him, cuts off his head, parcels it up and then disposes of the body. Feasible, motive and opportunity.”

I nodded. “Yes, it’s possible.”

“B, she really was in love with him and he was in love with her. Shaw proposes and she says no. Remember his philosophy of life?”

“According to her.”

“If you can’t buy it, shoot the owner and take it. So his guy, in the white van, sees Jack arrive, and as he is leaving, he snatches him, bundles him in the van, yadda yadda.” We continued in silence for a while along the dappled road and after a while she added, “They are the only two options that really jibe.”

I frowned at her curiously.

“Why are you dismissing Lenny so easily?”

“I don’t know.”

“It is a hell of a coincidence, Dehan, and he just got through telling us he loved her and he has no alibi.”

“Hmm…” She glanced at me. “Is there any point in my asking what you think?”

“I think the narrow time frame is crucial. I think the familiarity with his movements is crucial. And the familiarity with Helena’s schedule is crucial.”

I smiled at her and was momentarily mesmerized by the procession of trees moving across the lenses of her aviators. She said, “What?”

“There is one other person with a very powerful motive for killing Jack, perhaps the most powerful, who was familiar with his movements, knew about his affair and was familiar with Helena’s schedule.”

She frowned. “Who?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Helena herself.”

She shook her head. “Nah…”

“We need a lot more facts, Dehan. We should not write anybody off yet. You know…” I beat a tattoo on my knees with my hands. “You were right. This case does remind me of the lock up case. There are several things, the dismembered body, the fact that the rest of the body never showed, the fact that the head was delivered to a particular person in a particular place… all that, but especially the feeling that there is someone at the back of it all, watching and manipulating. That is the part that increasingly stands out for me.”

She nodded for a bit and then shrugged. “That, for me, points to one of two people. Penelope and Shaw. They are both manipulators and controllers.” She was quiet for a bit, then added, “Plus, Penelope was probably the last person to see him alive, if that is where he was going at lunch. That, Stone, that for me is crucial.”

I thought about it and said, “I agree.”

* * *

Alornerk lived practically on the beach, on the corner of Quincy Shore Drive and Arnold Road. It was an ugly, two story house with a gabled roof, a chimney and an extension built over a large garage. The whole thing was set behind a chain link fence in the middle of a flat lawn with no flowers.

I pulled into his driveway, blocking his garage, and stood looking out at Quincy Bay and the broad, sandy beach that led down to the sea. The front door of the house opened, beyond a dead flowerbed, and a tall man with very long arms and legs stepped out and looked at us briefly. He was wearing black jeans and a black university sweatshirt, both of which made him look thinner. His pear-shaped head was balanced on top of his neck, so that the bulbous bit seemed about to overbalance at the top, while his chin barely protruded beyond his Adam’s apple at the bottom. His hair was dark and short, and what little chin he had was unshaven.

He trotted down the steps to the lawn and approached us.

“Are you the detectives?”

“Detectives Stone and Dehan. As I said to you on the phone, we have no jurisdiction here. We are just hoping you can clarify…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s go over to the beach. We can sit on the wall. I’m sick of being stuck in the fucking

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