“Yes, shooting and stabbing,” Decker said. “More than one person. Sounds like a bunch of bikers. Ideas?”

Marge said, “The bikers were resentful because they found out that Sparks only wanted them for their hearts.” She made a face. “My, that sounds awful!”

“A revenge motive,” Decker said. “That’s biker mentality for sure. These guys have been known to kill over bar stools. Imagine how they’d feel if they knew Sparks was interested in cutting out their internal organs.”

He rubbed his neck.

“That’s one theory. Now, let’s talk about something else. If Sparks wasn’t really interested in his biker buddies except for their hearts, what was William Waterson doing with Emmanuel ‘Grease Pit’ Sanchez up in Canyon Country?”

“Giving money to the bikers to repeal the helmet law,” Marge said.

“While Sparks was alive, I could see him giving money to the cause. But do you think he would have left money for that in his will?”

“Why not?” Marge said. “For the benefit of future heart surgery.”

“You’re both missing the point,” Oliver said. “What do bikers have to do with Leonard and Decameron? And Myron’s whereabouts are now unverifiable. He’s a noted liar—”

“He passed the test twice—”

“Those tests are useless—”

“They’re hard to beat—”

“I think we’re all too tired to think straight,” Decker interrupted. “Maybe something’ll come in our sleep. We all got paperwork to finish up.” He stood and opened the door. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

“Are we being dismissed?” Marge asked.

“Yes, you’re being dismissed. I’d like to make it home before daybreak.”

Marge said, “You’re acting very brass, Pete.”

Decker grinned. “It’s lonely at the top.”

Squinting from the hot glare of morning sunlight, precariously gripping five grocery bags, Rina managed to make it from her car to the front door. She felt the weight of the merchandise in her back and shoulders, her arms aching as she rooted in her purse for her keys. Finally, she gave up, lowered the bags onto the porch, and rummaged around her handbag. She had a crashing headache, the scarf around her head choking her scalp like a vise.

What a morning! Peter and the boys had overslept, so breakfast had been fast and furious. Then Hannah suddenly decided she didn’t want to go to nursery school. Her watch said half-past ten. It felt like midnight.

She unlocked the front door and picked up two grocery bags. As soon as she walked over the threshold, she threw off her head covering, shook out her hair, and headed for the kitchen.

Why did Hannah have to have a temper tantrum this morning? Friday morning. The busiest day of her week with the house to clean and the Shabbos cooking to do.

She laid the bags on the kitchen counter, turned around, and jumped back.

Bram laid the other three bags on the kitchen table. “Hi.”

“You scared me!”