Ulrich smoothed his left mustache. "I didn't want to say this in front of Tanya. Not because it's anything significant, but she thinks anything we say will get us more deeply involved. But I don't see how this could. It was just another car. Parked on the side of the road. The south side. We passed it as we drove up. Not particularly close, maybe a quarter mile down that way." Indicating east. "Couldn't be relevant, right? Because by the time we arrived Mate had been dead for a while, right? So why would anyone stick around?"

"What kind of car?" I said.

"BMW. Like ours. That's why I noticed it. Darker than ours. Maybe black. Or dark gray."

"Same model?"

"Can't say, all I remember is the grille. No big deal, there've got to be lots of Beemers up here, right? I just thought I should mention it."

"You didn't happen to notice the license plate?"

He laughed. "Yeah, right. And the facial features of some psychotic killer drooling at the wheel. No, that's all I can tell you— a dark Beemer. The only reason I even remembered it was that when Detective Sturgis called last night, he asked us to search our minds for any other details, and I really gave it a go. I can't even swear it was that dark. Maybe it was medium-gray. Brown, whatever. Amazing I remembered it at all. After seeing what was inside that van, it's hard to think about anything else. Whoever did that to Mate must have really hated him."

I said, "Rough. Which window did you look through?"

"First the front windshield. Saw blood on the seats and I said, 'Oh shit.' Then Duchess ran around the back so we followed her. That's where we caught a full view."

Milo backed away and Stratton got in the car.

Ulrich said, "Better hustle. Nice to meet you, Dr. Delaware."

He jogged toward the blue car, saluted Milo as he entered. Starting up, he shifted into gear, hooked a U-turn and sped down the rise.

I told Milo about the dark BMW.

"Well, it's something," he said. Then he laughed coldly. "No, it's not. He's right. Why would the killer stick around for three, four hours?" He stashed the notepad back in his pocket. "Okay, one reinterview heard from."

"She's a tense one," I said.

"Blame her? Why? She set off some buzzers?"

"No. But I see what you meant about delicacy. What did she tell you when you spoke to her alone?"

"It was Paul's idea to come up here. Paul's idea to hike. Paul's a superjock, would live in a tree if he could. They probably weren't in the throes of love when they found Mate. Guess it didn't spice up their relationship."

"Murder as aphrodisiac."