“Or if a guy like him is worth the trouble?”

“Ouch,” he reacted. “What makes you say that?”

“Experience. What’s your name?”

“Joe.”

“Well, Joe, I told all this to the guy with the floppy arm. Talk to him.”

“I have. Things have developed since you two met.”

Her tone became cautious. “Okay.”

“You and Don have grown in our estimation, Cheri. When we started looking at this, we thought he was a minor player and you were just the grieving mother. But there’s more going on here, isn’t there?”

“If you say so.”

Across the room, a reedy chorus of “Happy Birthday” floated into the air, accompanied by a sudden blossoming of four balloons and a single sparkler stuck into a cupcake.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Joe said as they watched the distant festivity. “Your skepticism notwithstanding, we’re applying the same resources to your boy as we do to every homicide. But in that process, we look at everyone very carefully, including the victims.”

“Here we go,” she said barely audibly.

“It helps us better understand, sometimes, why it was they were killed. In your and Don’s case, Cheri, you two appear to have more to tell than we’d first thought.”

“Meaning what?”

“We pulled your backgrounds. We know you did time for burglary in the past, you’ve been a person of interest in more than one of Don’s escapades, we even found your van parked in that barn in New Hampshire.”

Cheri remained silent, but her eyes had slipped off the birthday and were now studying the center of the table. She ignored a man who walked by saying, “Hey there, Cheri.”

Joe moved slightly closer to speak confidentially. “We found the storage locker in Seabrook. We’re going through it now.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, that’s the beauty here, isn’t it?” he said. “I wouldn’t care if you copped to having filled that unit single-handedly, without Don even knowing about it. I’m not here for that. My interest is in who killed him. I need you as an ally, Cheri, not someone who thinks I’m setting her up for a fall.”

At last, she turned her head to look him in the eyes. “You being straight?”

“As an arrow. You’ve got connections. Ask around about me. Joe Gunther’s my full name. Back in the day, I ran the detective squad for the PD here. Find out if I’m true to my word. We can talk later once you’ve checked me out. I hate to lose the time, but I need you on board. If that’s what it takes, so be it.”

She didn’t move for a slow count, studying his face as if deciphering the fine print, before she returned forward and took a sip of her water.

“Okay,” she finally said. “What do you want to know?”

“Thank you,” he started. “First off, just so all our cards are faceup, you were aware of your son’s activities, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve already interviewed a couple of his fences, but did he have confederates, people who went out with him to commit the burglaries?”