“No, not big . . . but bigger than Greenbury. Marge was real smart. Can’t get more perfect than Ventura PD. Man, it’s beautiful up there.”

“So why don’t you apply to Ventura?”

He shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t be the same. We’re both in different places now. I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery. I’m willing to uproot myself.”

“What about your kids?”

“They’re scattered and busy. If they want to see me, I’ll get a spare bedroom in my seaside condo that must have a pool. Certainly enough of those around in Florida.”

“You might have a problem, though,” Decker said.

“What?”

“A single man around all those widows.”

Oliver laughed. “Stand in line, ladies, there’s enough to go around.”

“Here we are.” Decker pulled into the Summer Village PD parking lot. He called up Chris Mulrooney who came bounding out five minutes later holding a briefcase. He wore a parka bomber jacket, thick denim jeans over bulky boots, shearling gloves, a knit hat, and a black scarf. Decker made the introductions after Mulrooney had slid into the backseat. He peeled off his winter wear in the hot car’s climate.

Mulrooney patted his leather valise. “Got a copy of the codebook right here. We can follow along with the professor.”

Decker pulled out several sheets of paper. “The kid has been looking at it for the past three days. He’s been counting phrases and is using them to plot a frequency chart. Not that he knows for certain if the phrases correspond with letters but he figured it was a good start.”

Mulrooney’s eyes scanned over the deciphered words. “How’s he feeling?”

“He’s laid up in a wheelchair but I’ve got him working in the library.”

“It’ll do him good to work.” Murooney stowed the papers in his briefcase. “We’ve been going through Latham’s papers, trying to locate things that might be opened from that janitor ring of keys we found. No local storage units yet. And the keys that open safe-deposit boxes aren’t local either. His local bank had two hundred and fifty-six dollars, forty-eight cents in a check deposit. Two credit cards with small balances. He had a bundled account for cable and Wi-Fi. No landline. Utilities and rent were paid up every month. Didn’t seem to splurge on himself except for the occasional restaurant and bar bills. We checked them out. The ones who do remember him said he was just a regular guy. We did pass around the picture of Angeline Moreau. Couple of bartenders thought that she looked familiar but they couldn’t be sure. They certainly couldn’t put her with him at a specific time.”

“That’s too bad.”