Daughter-in-law—Bible study at St. James Church. Unconfirmed—pastor out of town. Try again.”

There were plenty of other names on their list, too, but I concentrated for the time being on the ones that matched my own list of suspects. I wrote everything down without thinking much about what I was writing, knowing there would be time to sort through it all later. I was on the last one when I heard loud voices in the hall, and I knew that was my cue to put the file back.

I was inserting my notepad into my purse when the door opened and two men came in, each carrying a can of soda. Keegan was first, followed by the tall black man I had seen him with in Gwen’s office the day before. I stood so that they could get past me to their desks, then we all sat down again at once.

“This is Detective Sollie,” Keegan said, waving toward his partner. The man nodded at me coldly.

“Ma’am,” he said.

“Sollie,” I said, giving him my most charming smile. “That’s an interesting name.”

“Slang for ‘Solomon,’” he answered gruffly.

“Solomon because he’s so, so wise,” Keegan teased. That seemed to break the man’s reticence. He balled up a piece of trash and tossed it at Keegan’s head.

“Mrs. Webber, you said on the phone that you had some information for us.”

“Yes,” I replied, nodding. “I don’t know how pertinent it might be, but I doubt it’s something you’ve turned up so far.”

“Go on.”

I hesitated, hating to give out any information at all. But the police wanted this relationship to be “mutually cooperative.” The least I could do was throw them a bone.

“Judith Smythe and Alan Bennet are involved in a clandestine affair.”

Sollie grunted. Keegan didn’t react at all.

“Judith, the daughter, and Bennet, the employee?” Sollie asked, consulting his notes. “How do you know this? Somebody told you?”

“I, ah, happened upon them by accident. They don’t know that I know.”

“What do you mean by clandestine?” asked Keegan. “Neither one of ’em’s married, far as I know.”

“All the more reason that their secretiveness is so odd. I saw them meeting late at night in an old barn on the back of the Smythe property. And, believe me, they may have been in a barn, but they weren’t out there discussing tractors or hay.”

“I see,” Sollie said, forming a tent with his fingers. “Anything else you’d like to tell us?”

I thought about the vandalism incidents involving Sidra, of Marion’s pleas not to involve the authorities. More importantly, I thought about the $250,000 that I had been told was for buying a building—but apparently was not. For now, I decided, I would keep these bits of information to myself.

“No, nothing else to report,” I replied.