“Of course not,” I said. “People think I’m weird enough as it is. Besides, it wasn’t my secret to tell.” It was my turn to give him a look. “Andy, you knew, too.” After that night in the alley when we’d been attacked by a were-hater, Andy had at least heard Tray in his animal form and then seen him as a naked human. Any basic connect-the-dots would draw a picture of a werewolf.

Andy looked down at the notepad he’d taken out of his pocket. He didn’t write anything down. He took a deep breath. “So that time I saw Tray in the alley, he had just changed back? I’m kind of glad. I never figured you for the kind of woman who’d have sex in public places with someone she scarcely knew.” (That surprised me; I’d always thought Andy believed just about anything bad about me.) “What about that blood-hound that was with you?”

“That was Sam,” I said, rising to rinse out my coffee cup.

“But at the bar he changed into a collie.”

“Collies are cute,” I said. “He figured more people would relate. It’s his usual form.”

Lattesta’s eyes were bugging out. He was one tightly wound guy. “Let’s get back on topic,” he said.

“Your brother’s alibi seems to be true,” Andy said. “We’ve talked to Jason two or three times, and we’ve talked to Michele twice, and she’s adamant that she was with him the whole time. She told us everything that happened that night in detail.” Andy half smiled. “Too much detail.”

That was Michele. She was forthright and downright. Her mom was the same way. I’d gone to vacation Bible school one summer when Mrs. Schubert was teaching my age group. “Tell the truth and shame the devil,” she’d advised us. Michele had taken that adage to heart, though maybe not in the way her mother had intended it.

“I’m glad you believe her,” I said.

“We also talked to Calvin.” Andy leaned on his elbows. “He gave us the background on Dove and Crystal. According to him, Jason knew all about their affair.”

“He did.” I shut my mouth tight. I wasn’t going to talk about that incident if I could help it.

“And we talked to Dove.”

“Of course.”

“Dove Beck,” Lattesta said, reading from his own notes. “He’s twenty-six, married, two kids.”

Since I knew all that, I had nothing to say.

“His cousin Alcee insisted on being there when we talked to him,” Lattesta said. “Dove says he was home all that night, and his wife corroborates that.”

“I don’t think Dove did it,” I said, and they both looked surprised.

“But you gave us the lead that she and Dove had had an affair,” Andy said.