He entered a bright, uncluttered office. An attractive woman somewhere in her forties with a tanning-bed complexion was sitting at a polished desk with several comfortable-looking chairs arrayed around it. On the walls were pictures of bungalows in various color and size variations.

After giving him an assessing once-over, the woman smiled. “How can I help you?”

He returned the smile. “I’m not sure. I drove up here on an impulse. Probably just a wild goose chase.”

“Oh?” She looked interested. “What wild goose are you chasing?”

“I’m not even sure about that.”

“Well, then …” she said with an uncertain frown. “What do you want? And who are you?”

“Oh, sorry about that. My name is Dave Gurney.” He took out his wallet, a little awkwardly, and stepped forward to show her his gold shield. “I’m a detective.”

She studied the shield. “It says ‘Retired.’ ”

“I was retired. And now, because of this murder case, it seems that I’ve become un-retired.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you referring to the Spalter murder case?”

“You’re familiar with that?”

“Familiar?” She appeared surprised. “Of course.”

“Because of the news coverage?”

“That, and the personal element.”

“Because the victim’s mother lived here?”

“To some extent, but … Would you mind telling me what this is all about?”

“I’ve been brought in to take a look at some aspects of the case that were never resolved.”

She gave him a canny look. “Brought in by a family member?”

Gurney nodded and smiled, as if to acknowledge some acuteness on her part.

“Which one?” she asked.

“How many of them do you know?”

“All of them.”

“Kay? Jonah? Alyssa?”

“Kay and Jonah, of course. Carl and Mary when they were alive. Alyssa only by name.”

Gurney was about to ask her how she knew them all when the obvious answer came to mind. For some reason he hadn’t immediately put the name of the place, Emmerling Oaks, together with his recollection from Willow Rest that Emmerling was Carl’s grandfather’s name. Apparently the family company owned more than apartment houses and cemeteries. “How do you like working for Spalter Realty?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You need to answer my question first. Why are you here?”

Gurney had to make a decision fast, based on what his gut told him about this woman, as he weighed the potential risks and rewards of different levels of disclosure. He had little to go on. In fact, just one tiny glimpse of something that he might very well have misread. All he had was the fleeting sense that when she’d spoken the name “Carl” she’d done it with the same distaste as Paulette Purley had.

He made his decision. “Let me put it this way,” he said, lowering his voice to give it the tenor of confidentiality. “There are certain aspects of Kay Spalter’s conviction that are questionable.”