“We’re not done just yet. Please.”

Livingston sat back down. “Honestly, I can’t exactly see her breaking into a cemetery and stealing the Tiffany glass windows. I could actually see Lance doing it as a joke.”

Max said, “So now we have two people you should talk to. Give them Angeline’s number, Liv.”

“We don’t need it,” Decker said. “We have it.”

Stewart was taken aback. “You’re already investigating her?”

“We’re investigating her murder.”

Livingston turned pale. “Angeline was murdered?”

“Yes,” Decker said. “We think she was killed last Sunday afternoon or early evening. That would be right after you left to go back to New York. I suspect our presence at the mausoleum may be behind the murder.” Both Livingston and Max had registered shock: wide eyes and mouths agape. Decker continued. “We’re actually looking into two murders: hers and a man named John Jeffrey Latham who might have been Angeline’s boyfriend or a friend or partner. Does that name ring a bell, Livingston?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Wha . . . what happened?”

Decker said, “That’s what we’re investigating. Where were you over the weekend, son?”

“Me?” Liv pointed to himself. “I was here . . . in the city.” He was breathing hard. “You don’t think . . .”

“Where in the city? I need a timeline: Saturday and Sunday.”

“I . . . have to think.”

Max finally spoke. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“If I knew what was going on, I wouldn’t be asking all these questions,” Decker said. “We have two murders that happened after your visit to the mausoleum. Do I think the murders are related to the thefts? Yes. Do I think Angeline and this Latham character were up to something? Yes. Do I think Angeline had anything to do with the forgeries? Yes. Is any of this worth killing two people over? No. So I’m missing a lot of pieces. And that’s why I’m asking questions.” To Livingston, “Where were you? And take your time because you’re only getting one shot to get it right.”

The kid looked up, down, and then up. “Saturday?” A pause. “I was home the whole day. I went to a party in the evening . . . like around nine.”

“You were home the entire day?”

He nodded.

“Who saw you?”

“My mom, my dad, the housekeeper.”

“Did you have your cell on you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Can I have it?”

Wordlessly, he handed it over to Decker.

Scrolling through to Saturday’s calls, Decker spoke out loud. “Over twenty texts and ten phone calls . . . none of them Angeline’s number . . . or Latham’s number . . . what is his area code again? Seven oh six or Oh seven six?”

“Oh seven six.”