“I don’t know if they’ll allow visitors, sweetie,” Sara Morgan said.

“I’ll ask,” Mendez offered.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Wendy said, bouncing on the balls of her feet as if the excitement weren’t going to be contained in her body. She turned toward her mother. “I’ll take her something special. Can I make her a card? Please? Can I go in your studio and make her a special card?”

Her mother ran a hand lovingly over Wendy’s tangled mermaid’s mane that matched her own. “Sure, sweetie. Make her something really special.”

Wendy bolted back up the staircase and disappeared.

Sara Morgan watched her go. There was a fine sheen of tears in her eyes when she turned back to them.

“I don’t get to see her that excited very much anymore,” she said.

“That must be hard on you,” Mendez murmured. It occurred to him that a lot of things in her life were hard on Sara Morgan. He halfway wanted to put his arms around her and give her a shoulder to cry on.

Maybe more than halfway.

“Ma’am,” Hicks said. “Do you know where your husband was Sunday night?”

“He was in Sacramento all weekend for a golf tournament. I couldn’t tell you what time he got in Sunday night. I didn’t hear him. When I came downstairs Monday morning he was sleeping on the sofa.”

“I hate to have to ask this,” Hicks said, “but do you think your husband was involved with Ms. Fordham?”

“I don’t know,” she said sadly. “And frankly, I don’t want to know anymore. My marriage is as over as it’s going to get. I just don’t know how to leave it.”

“I’m sorry,” Mendez said softly, even though a part of him wasn’t. She deserved better than Steve Morgan. She deserved to be happy.

Hicks drew breath to ask another question. Mendez headed him off at the pass.

“Thank you, Mrs. Morgan,” he said. “We won’t take up any more of your time.”

“I was going to ask her where she was Sunday night,” Hicks said as they walked back to the car.

“Leave her alone.”

“If her friend was sleeping with her husband, she had as much motive to kill Marissa Fordham as anyone. Maybe more. And did you see her hands? They’re all cut up.”

“She’s making a sculpture, working with metal.”

“Since when? Monday morning?”

Mendez started the car. “Let’s go find the asshole she’s married to and ask him.”

Chapter 34

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