“We’ll have to let your lawyers work that out,” Virgil said. “In the meantime, not a word about the wire to anyone, you understand?”

Apel felt the threat. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.”

When he was gone, Virgil ushered Jenkins out of the store. They looked after Apel’s disappearing taillights and then followed him, in Jenkins’s car, until he made the right turn onto the Interstate ramp toward Albert Lea.

“Follow?” Jenkins asked.

“No, back to town. To Apel’s place.”

“You’re gonna talk to Ann tonight?”

“Why not? We know she’s up.”

“What do you think you’ll get out of her?”

“Maybe nothing. I’m not counting on anything.”

“Then why . . . ?”

“’Cause I’m going to wire her up,” Virgil said.

“Say what?”

—

Ann Apel came to the door with a frown on her face but no sign of tears or even a flushed face. She was an attractive woman, in a fortyish, small gymnast pork ’n’ beans way. When she turned on the porch light and saw who was standing there, she yanked open the door and shouted, “You ruined my marriage!”

Jenkins said, “Actually, you ruined your own marriage when you started playing house with Glen Andorra.”

Virgil winced, and Apel tried to slam the door, but Jenkins got his foot in the door before it closed. He pushed it farther open, and said, “Stand back. Our search warrant is good until midnight, and I don’t think I got a real good look at your undies.”

All right, Virgil thought, good cop/bad cop.

—

Jesus, take it easy, Jenkins,” Virgil said. To Apel: “I apologize for this, but we’re tired. We were following your husband tonight, and we tracked him out to the Interstate. We need to talk to you.”

She let them in, reluctantly, and gave the stink eye to Jenkins every time he said a word, but Virgil put her on a couch, and said, “Listen, I know this may come as a shock, but we think there’s a very good chance that your husband is behind these killings in town. In some way or another. And he’s behind the murder of Glen Andorra. We believe you may have had a relationship with Mr. Andorra . . .”

She began to talk after Virgil outlined the evidence they’d accumulated on the brew pub loan. “We think Mr. Apel might have been worried about the payback prospects if Mrs. Osborne gave all her money to the church . . .”

Apel told them about her own fears. That Davy had been acting odd, that he’d told her that he had an alibi for the shooting of Margery Osborne but that he had been worried Danny Visser would lie about the time he was there.