I open my notebook. “Can you run through that visit for us, please?”

“Yes. Sure. We were there since Monday. Molly invited us up to celebrate the Fourth and her birthday on the second. We’d had a fun week—”

“What did you do?” Joe asks. “All week?”

“We barbequed. Walked in the woods. Had drinks. Watched movies.”

“Anything out of the ordinary?” He peers at her, his dark eyes unblinking.

“ No.”

I sketch her face, the frown lines on her forehead. “What about the Fourth itself?”

“We grilled hamburgers and hot dogs outside.”

“You go out to see fireworks?” Joe asks. He and I have slipped easily into our previous pattern. Taking turns asking questions, quickly tossing the reins back and forth, hoping to keep our interviewee on her back foot.

“No. Molly doesn’t like them.”

“Why not?”

She shrugs. “She’s, I don’t know, anxious. Loud noises bother her. We stayed at the house.”

“So it was a quiet evening?” I ask.

“Yes. We ate and drank. Watched a Fourth of July show on TV.”

“What time did everyone go to bed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who went first?”

Mrs. Pearson blows out a breath. “Molly, I think. She had a headache.”

Chase and I had pinned a diagram of the house on an easel in the corner. I stand and point to the first floor. “Mrs. Bradley went to the master bedroom here? What time?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe around ten?”

“What about Dr. Bradley?”

“I’m not sure. I went to bed shortly after Molly did, so I guess I was next.”

“Pretty early, huh?” Joe says. “Where did you sleep?”

“Show us on the diagram, please,” I say.

She gets up and walks to the easel. It takes her a minute to orient herself. “Here. This upstairs bedroom.”

“You go right to sleep?” Joe asks.

“No. I read for a while.”

“When did your husband come up?”

“I think it was around eleven.”

“Were you still awake?”

“Yes.”

“You or he leave the bedroom all night?”

Her eyes open wide. “No. We went to sleep.”

“You hear anything in the night? Anything at all?” I tap my pencil against my notebook.

“Oh, wait. I did get up. I heard cars driving by the house.”

“What time was that?” Joe leans forward.

“Um, around midnight, I think. The people up the road had a big party. People were coming and going all day.” She puts a hand to her mouth. “Do you think someone from the party killed that woman?”

“Maybe,” I say. “You hear anything else?”

“No. I went downstairs for a glass of water.”

“At midnight?”

“Yes.”

“Was anyone else up downstairs?” Joe clicks the top of his pen.

“Jay was. I saw the light on in the den, so I peeked in. Jay was drinking coffee, working on his laptop.”

My heart starts to pound. “Did you speak with Dr. Bradley?”