Nasser shook his head. “No. Marissa took it in stride. She’s been his neighbor for several years. She knows Dr. Zahn isn’t a violent man. I can’t imagine him ever hurting anybody. He doesn’t like touching people or having people touch him. I’m sure it never entered Marissa’s mind that he might hurt her somehow.”

“Were they involved?”

“Sexually?” Nasser laughed, flashing an array of brilliantly white teeth. “No. God, no. Like I said: Dr. Zahn doesn’t like touching anyone. If you shake his hand, he’ll go open a fresh bar of soap and scrub like a surgeon.”

“He’s obsessive-compulsive?” Vince said, not surprised to hear it. He thought back to Zahn wringing his hands over and over as they asked him questions.

“To the tenth power.”

“What about you, Mr. Nasser?” Mendez asked. “Ms. Fordham was a beautiful woman.”

“Yes, she was. But my first obligation is to Dr. Zahn. I would never jeopardize my position with him. The man is fucking brilliant. He has one of the brightest minds of our time.”

“And you’re one of the few people who can understand it,” Vince said.

“I’ve been a disciple for a long time. I realize how fortunate I am to be working with him.”

“What exactly is your role here?” Vince asked.

“Dr. Zahn doesn’t like to interact with people,” Nasser said.

“That must make it difficult for him to teach.”

“That’s where I come in,” Nasser said. “Mathematics is his world. He’s most comfortable with numbers, not people. And he loves trying to open that world to others, but he’s socially awkward. I’m here to do the actual interaction with the kids, sort of a liaison, if you will.”

“That makes sense.”

“And Ms. Fordham?” Mendez asked. “What was your take on her?”

Nasser glanced away and shrugged. “She seemed nice enough. I wasn’t a fan of her art. Too sweet, too idyllic for my tastes.”

Vince thought of the scene in Marissa Fordham’s retro-ranch kitchen. There had been nothing sweet or idyllic about that—except perhaps in the eyes of the person who had wanted her dead.

“We have some additional questions for Dr. Zahn,” he said. “Can you give us directions to his house?”

“I’m finished here,” Nasser said. “I’ll take you.”

Chapter 10

10

Rudy Nasser led the way out of town in his old black BMW 3 Series convertible. The two-lane road wound through beautiful country quilted by four-rail fences and studded with spreading oak trees. They passed horse ranches and vineyards, and a lavender farm that colored the valley floor purple as far back toward the mountains as the eye could see.

“I’m surprised you let him come along,” Mendez said, glancing over at Vince.

“Let’s see that dynamic,” Vince said. “Let’s see how Zahn interacts with someone we can assume he’s comfortable with. He might let his guard down more.”