The small writing desk was empty. Ethel knew that Finch usually set his laptop there. The computer wasn’t in the room, and the cable Jesse identified as a power adapter suggested that Finch had had it in his car. Maybe it had slid under the seat.

She checked the armoire and the dresser. Clothes were neatly hung or folded in drawers. Ethel was puzzled that it looked like Finch had simply come in and turned on the light before returning to his car. She carefully dropped to her knees beside the bed. Looking under the springs, she saw a gym bag pushed against the wall. The course of its path was clearly indicated by the trail it left through the fine layer of dust. Ethel made a mental note to admonish the housekeeper for her lack of thoroughness.

Ethel slid under the bed until she could reach the bag. She knew she must look a ridiculous sight, a seventy-five-year-old woman whose wrinkled feet scrambled for traction to pull her out again. When she’d managed to extricate herself, she sat on the floor beside the bag. A single zipper ran along the top. She opened it with one fluid motion and then used both hands to widen the opening. Rolls and rolls of hundred-dollar bills. A convention of Benjamin Franklins.

“Ethel, the police would like a word.” Jesse’s voice came from the front of the house.

Ethel used the bed to help her to her feet. She couldn’t leave the money in the room. It must involve some case Finch was working on. The bag was heavy, but she managed to lug it down the back stairs where her own first-floor bedroom was out of sight of the foyer.

“In the bathroom,” she shouted as she closed the door behind her. She pushed the bag under her bed and went into the adjoining bathroom. She flushed the toilet, and ran water in the basin. She wiped her face with a damp washcloth, brushed the tangles from her shoulder-length gray hair, and prepared to take on the role of a bewildered little old lady.

Chapter 4

Jesse had watched Ethel disappear into the shadows of the front porch and then heard the click as the door closed. He looked down at the body, at the blood-soaked robe, and for the first time he felt the chill of the night air penetrate his pale skin. There he stood in only a T-shirt and boxers, suddenly lit up by the beams of multiple police flashlights.