“I don’t really have enough information to consider anyone a suspect, sir,” Ray replied.

Stanhope smiled. Ray smiled back.

“The sheriff was right in calling you a smart man, Detective.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ve talked to Peter in detail about this incident myself. I believe he can help you identify the guilty party.”

Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “He saw who killed Laura?”

“Not the crime itself, but when you hear his story, I think you’ll feel as I do.”

“I’d like to talk to him.”

“Of course. Peter!”

Peter Stanhope sauntered into the library. He had been waiting outside. His blond hair was washed and combed. He was close-shaven. He wore dress pants, a white shirt, a tie, and a tweed blazer. Stride noticed deep scratches on Peter’s broad, freckled face and a misshapen purplish bruise on his forehead. Peter’s gait was stilted and stiff. He shoved his hands in his pockets and grimaced in pain.

Behind Peter, the same maid who had answered the front door entered the library silently and handed Randall Stanhope a large cardboard box. She left, and Stanhope passed the box to Ray.

“Peter’s clothes from last night,” Stanhope said. “Unwashed. Plenty of mud and grass stains, but as you will see, no blood, other than, perhaps, a little of his own. I anticipated that would be one of your first concerns, so I made sure we preserved the evidence.”

Ray crooked a finger at Stride, who peered into the box. He took a quick glance at the clothes and nodded. The clothes in the box were the same clothes Peter had been wearing the night before.

“What happened to you, Peter?” Ray asked.

“Someone kicked the shit out of me, what does it look like?”

Peter snapped. “Peter!” his father interrupted sternly. Stanhope turned to Ray. “I’m sorry. Peter is very upset about what happened.”

“Of course.”

“You see, Peter and Laura were lovers.”

Stride opened his mouth to protest, then clamped it shut. Ray folded his arms and studied Peter, who was leaning uncomfortably against the bookcase. “Is that true, Peter?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“A couple months.”

“Her sister told me that Laura broke up with you. She said you were pressuring Laura for sex, and Laura said no.”

“I hear yes a lot more than I hear no.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Laura wanted to keep it a secret. Her and me. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Why is that?”

“Who knows? Girls are weird that way. Maybe she didn’t want everyone asking her for favors, you know? When people hear my last name, they want stuff.”

“So what happened last night?”

Peter glanced at Stride. “There was a big storm up there. It washed out the ball game, and I went running for my car. I waited there until the rain had mostly stopped, and then I went back into the field.”

“Why?”

“I knew Laura would be coming.”

“Did the two of you arrange to meet? Was this a date?”