I had a list of suspects two pages long. And one of them was her own son. But I wasn’t about to tell her that.

“You really think you can find the killer?”

“I’ll try my best.”

Who did I think I was kidding? I hadn’t had an ounce of success so far. What Heidi needed was a real detective. Where was Kinsey Millhone when you needed her?

Grandma K looked like she’d aged five years in the past two days.

“It’s all my fault,” she moaned. “If only I hadn’t called the carpet cleaners. The carpets weren’t even that dirty.”

At which point, Conchi scuttled in the room with a plate of fresh-baked cookies.

“Here, Miss Heidi,” she said. “Chocolate chip. Your favorite.”

“Thanks, Conchi.” Heidi wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “But I’m not hungry.”

Conchi set the cookies down on the coffee table. “Maybe you’ll have one later.” Then she scuttled back out of the room, muttering Ay, caramba! Dios Mio, or words to that affect.

Maybe Heidi wasn’t hungry, but I’m ashamed to say I was. Those cookies looked fabulous. I barely restrained myself from reaching out and grabbing one. Okay, so I didn’t restrain myself. I took one.

Okay, I took two.

Heidi turned to me with red-rimmed eyes.

“What if they arrest me?”

“They’re not going to arrest you,” Hal said, striding into the room, tall and cool and confident. “I just got off the phone with my attorneys.”

Attorneys, plural. Hal wasn’t taking any chances. He sat down next to Heidi and took her in his arms. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

At last, he was showing her some affection.

I left Heidi in the arms of her father and headed out to my Corolla. It was a very touching scene I’d just witnessed. Maybe with Grandma K around, Hal was turning into a human being again.

But then again, maybe he wasn’t. There was a cynical voice inside my head scripting another scenario: Maybe Hal had indeed killed SueEllen. But he knew he couldn’t afford to be a suspect, not even for a minute. His whole medical practice was at stake. Maybe he figured it wouldn’t matter so much if the cops suspected Heidi. After all, she was a kid. She had no reputation to ruin. In two years, the whole thing would be forgotten.

Was it possible that Hal Kingsley had framed his own daughter for a crime he committed, confident that he could get her off the hook with a dream team of lawyers?

Chapter Nineteen

It was dark when I stepped outside onto the Kingsleys’ circular driveway. The fog was rolling in, and so was Brad. He came roaring up the driveway in his Ferrari, leaving a fine spray of gravel in his wake. His car stereo was blaring a delightful rap tune. Something about a guy getting it on with his fat-assed bitch.

Eat your heart out, Irving Berlin.

Brad mercifully turned off the ignition and hopped out of the car, whistling a happy tune, not a care in the world. Until he saw me standing there, arms folded across my chest. Then he didn’t look so happy.