“I would say so,” he replied indignantly. “I should know everything that’s going on with Feed the Need.”

“Well,” I continued, “anyway, when your father was killed, Tom asked me to investigate the murder. My background is in criminal work.”

“Is that why you’re staying at the house?”

“Partly,” I answered. “The police won’t let me leave town because I’m a material witness to your father’s murder. But your mother knows that I’m investigating.”

“What does my son have to do with any of this?” he said. “Why have you brought him into it?”

I smiled at Carlos.

“Well, as it turns out, Derek, Carlos has been doing a little investigating of his own. Why don’t you tell him about that, Carlos?”

Suddenly shy, Carlos recounted the story of how he had seen Judith with the black roses and then set about trying to catch her mischief again on videotape.

“I got it on tape this time,” he said, holding up the dark cassette for his father to see, telling him about the damaged car. “Now everybody has to believe me.”

“It’s Judith alright,” I added.

Derek seemed truly stunned, and I felt for him as he looked from me back to his son. I told him that we needed to keep this information to ourselves for just a bit longer. Of course, if he wanted to go ahead and let Sidra know, that was up to him.

“Okay, buddy,” he said, finally reaching out to squeeze Carlos’ hand. “Thanks for telling me. Now Ms. Webber and I need to talk. You want some quarters for the game room?”

“Sure!”

Derek gave Carlos a ten-dollar bill and sent him to the cashier for an entire roll. Then Carlos ran to the little room at the back of the diner where we could watch him playing video games through a glass door.

“Unbelievable,” Derek said finally, resting his head in his hands. “I couldn’t imagine what was going on here this morning, but I can say this was the very last thing on earth I expected. Judith. My gosh, why?”

I wanted to trust Derek, but I still had some reservations.

“I have to ask you a question,” I said, thinking back to the argument that I overheard that first afternoon. “Why did Sidra say that your father’s death would be ‘convenient’ for you?”

He looked at me, confused.

“Your big argument. The day he died?”

“You heard us?”

I shrugged.

“It wasn’t hard,” I said. “You were practically yelling.”

Not to mention the fact that I was hovering right outside the window, straining to catch every word.

The waitress came with more coffee, and Derek paused to order a full breakfast. When she was gone, he shook his head.