“Gabe was having some trouble with his car last week. Needed a tune-up or something. Anyway, the garage we usually use closed down about six months ago so he was looking for someplace new. He asked for recommendations at Sunday dinner at the Morgans’. One of his sisters said that she always took her car to Garage on Division, but then his brother said that he’d heard some bad things about their work. That there was even some talk that the place might be close to shutting down.”

“Gabe and his brother are talking again?” Months ago Danny Morgan had made a pass at Rena and things between the two Morgan men had gotten sticky.

“Gabe and Danny are civil to one another. We’ve had a couple family things this summer and nobody ended up in the emergency room. Always happy and relieved about that.”

“Nobody else in the family knows,” A.L. said.

“God, no,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a secret that Danny, Gabe and I are taking to our graves.”

“Another couple years, you’ll be laughing about the whole thing.”

“A stiff smile, perhaps. I wish it was like it was before.”

“Give it time. Jacqui and I can actually do small talk now.” He’d been divorced for five years after his wife had decided to warm somebody else’s bed. “It doesn’t happen overnight.”

“I suppose. Anyway, we ended up taking the car to the Volkswagen dealer so I don’t really know anything about Garage on Division.”

“Interesting that the rumor was they might be closing. Troy said they were busy,” A.L. said. “Although being busy and making money in a small business aren’t the same thing. Anyway, what else do we know?”

“Tension between Elaine and her son-in-law.”

“Not that unusual,” A.L. said.

“Perhaps,” Rena said. “Hence the abundance of mother-in-law jokes.”

“Speaking of family, I think we need to verify that Kara Wiese’s husband is at work today,” A.L. said.

“Agree. And there are three teachers we haven’t talked with yet.”

“One of who was ill today. That’s why Alice Quest was working in a classroom.”

“Right. And there’s the cook who comes in for a few hours every day.”

He saw a black Suburban pull up and park. Two men got out. Both wore dark suits and white shirts. One had a blue tie and the other a red.

FBI. They might as well be carrying a placard. They stopped at the door, spoke to the officer, flashed some badges and then were through the doorway.

“Detective A.L. McKittridge,” he said, extending his hand.

“Special Agents Drew White and Monty Connell.” They flashed their IDs.

Drew White had the blue tie. Up close, he was at least ten years older than Monty Connell. A.L. guessed them fifty and forty, respectively. “My partner, Detective Rena Morgan,” he said.