Elaine Gregory ran her fingers through her hair, making it spring out even more. “What time did she come in?”

“Look,” Fairchild said. “I’m trying to cooperate, but where’s that other fellow, that colonel what’s his name. I’ve already told him all this.”

“Lieutenant Bissell is taking a personal leave day,” Officer Gregory said.

“He’s at the writers’ conference,” I explained.

“Well, damn!” Fairchild’s face was no longer pale. He leaned forward. “Look here,” he told the two officers, “you find out what happened to my wife and you tell me when you are going to release her body. She’s got a sick sister in De Funiak Springs and this whole thing is going to kill her. I’ve got to at least tell her and her brother when we can plan a funeral. You hear me? And I’m damned if you’re going to keep asking me the same questions you’ve got the answers to there in those damn notebooks.”

This was the man who had just said he would answer anything they asked? I reached over and patted his arm again.

The two officers didn’t seem at all surprised by Fairchild’s outburst. “Okay, Mr. Weatherby,” Elaine Gregory said. “I’ll read you what we have in our notes and you can tell us if we’re right. Okay?”

“I guess so.” Fairchild folded his arms and waited.

Elaine Gregory consulted her notebook. “Mrs. Weatherby got home between six and six-thirty yesterday morning.” She looked at Fairchild and he nodded. “She said she had been sleeping in her car at the Redneck Riviera because she had had too much to drink.”

“She only had a couple of drinks,” Fairchild said. “But she wasn’t much of a drinker.”

“She was with some people from Blue Bay, you think, either the staff or prospective clients.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Which? Staff?”

“I’m not sure,” Fairchild admitted. “I was angry and relieved at the same time, so I don’t remember what she said about who she was with.”

Elaine nodded and continued. “You had a few cross words, and then Mrs. Weatherby came over here to tell Mrs. Hollowell she was all right.”

“She did,” I agreed.

“And then she went back to your apartment, Mr. Weatherby, discovered you were out of tomato juice and said she was going to run over to Delchamps Super Market to get some.”

“Their Food Club tomato juice is delicious,” I said. “The store brand? It’s not as tart as some of the others. About twenty cents cheaper, too.”

Officer Gregory cut her eyes at me. “Well, it’s the truth,” I said.

“And she never came home.” Tim Blankenship spoke up.

“No,” Fairchild said. “And if you’ll consult your notes, you’ll see I thought she had decided to go on to work.”