That, she obviously wasn’t expecting. “In the Mercedes?” she asked. “I told the other guy—the one with the funny arm—we took a quick ride north of Putney once, to Windsor. But the car was hot. Don wanted to impress me, but he didn’t want to get busted, either.”

“But you did go on other trips with him, just not in that car?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, looking down.

Joe removed several pictures from his pocket and placed them faceup before her. “During your time with Don, did you ever see any of these people?”

She studied them, which was unusual in Joe’s experience. “No,” she said.

“How about the names Lemuel Shaw, Lucy Shaw, or Seamus Kyle?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Does the name Melissa Monfet do anything for you?”

“No. Sorry.”

“How ’bout on the night Don was killed. Where were you?”

“Working. At Taco Bell.”

“And after your shift?”

“Home. You can ask my parents. They’re always up late, so we watch TV together.”

That didn’t mean she didn’t sneak out afterward, but Joe had gained access to her phone records through a warrant and hadn’t found any activity after 2:00 A.M.

“Did you ever meet his mom?” he asked, shifting directions slightly, seeking to confirm what Cheri had told Willy about never having met Robin.

“She’s dead,” she answered quickly. “So, no.”

That caught him off guard. “And the name Cheri Pratt?” he asked in the same voice.

“No.”

“What did he tell you about his mom?”

“That she died when he was little. He was a foster kid. Moved around a bunch.”

“No permanent home? No one he thought of as a mother?”

“Not that he told me. It sounded bad, like people took him in for the state benefits, until he acted up enough that they got rid of him. He said he grew up feeling like a bad used car. A what-d’ya-call-it.”

“A lemon?”

“Right.” She flipped her phone over that she’d placed beside her coffee and checked the time. “I gotta get back,” she announced. “We done?”

“Yes,” Joe replied, waiting until she’d left before updating the others via text.

It was after dark when Willy Kunkle saw the lights go on at Cheri’s house. He’d seen her enter her driveway minutes earlier and weighed ambushing her there or waiting. He was looking forward to this. As with so much else since the discovery of Don Kalfus’s unexpected death, things had shape-shifted considerably, introducing a host of unexpected characters, turning victims into perpetrators and mourners into something much darker. The traditionally straight line between a thief and his consequences had taken some serious twists and turns.

Riding on his earlier rapport with Cheri when he’d first met her with Ron Klecszewski, Willy had opted to come alone. A rationalization, not to mention a violation of safety protocols. Willy was the first to admit how often he took advantage of Joe’s forgiving nature.

He waited further to see just one sign of movement across a curtain, ensuring that Cheri hadn’t repaired to the bathroom upon her return, before he crossed the street and rang her doorbell.