“Right. That’s it,” Quinn said, seeming flustered.

“Do you know what auction house?”

“Stone Mills Auction Gallery. I called them. They couldn’t tell me a thing.”

“So he was meeting someone there,” Stanley said as he wrote.

“Was he?” Quinn said. “I wouldn’t know about the people he hangs out with when he’s at his auctions. I never go with him. Not my thing.”

“Not . . . your . . . thing.” Stanley repeated the words as he wrote them down. Then he looked across at Quinn, his head tilted. “And after he texted, what did you do?”

“What did I do?” Quinn gave Emily a tight-lipped smile. Her expression said, Here we go. “Nothing. I stayed home.”

“Is there anyone who can vouch for you?”

Quinn pointed to Emily.

Emily said, “Right. We were together.”

Stanley looked at Emily as if registering her presence for the first time. Eyed her name badge. “Miss Harlow?”

“Mrs.” Emily was glad that she was married to a lawyer who’d somewhat prepared her for this interrogation. “I’m a professional organizer.”

Quinn added, “She’s helping me downsize.”

“And you arrived at what time?” Stanley asked.

Emily looked at Quinn. “Around six?”

“Right,” Quinn said. “I called her when I knew Wally would be tied up.”

That caught Stanley’s attention. “And why was that?” he said.

“You don’t need to answer—” Emily began, but Quinn plowed ahead with, “He doesn’t like strangers in the house. I wanted her to come when he wasn’t there.” Her look challenged Sergeant Stanley to question that.

Stanley scratched his head and gazed at Emily. “And you stayed until when?”

Quinn answered. “I turned on the TV after she left and the ten o’clock news was on.”

Emily squirmed. Quinn was stretching it. If Emily had left Quinn’s house that late, the coffee shop would have been closed by the time she got there.

“And you got home at . . .” Stanley looked at Emily.

“I didn’t notice the time.” That was the truth. “It had to have been past ten.” The truth again. “I live in East Hartwell, it’s a short drive.”

Stanley nodded. Reviewed his notes. “So you ladies were there together for, what, four hours? From six until after ten? Then what?”

“Like I said, I watched what was left of the ten o’clock news,” Quinn said. “Then I went to sleep.”

“Sleep.” Stanley straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes at Quinn. “You didn’t feel like you needed to stay awake? Wait for your husband to come back?”

“No.” Quinn took a step back. “Not really. He told me not to wait up.”

“You’ve been married for how long?”

Quinn swallowed. “Three years.”

“So this wasn’t the first time your husband had called to say he was getting home late and not to wait up?”