Corbett’s former residence was four stories, fronted by a yellowing grass strip planted with small maple trees. Access to the individual units was by way of outdoor staircases. The apartments had balconies. Some were outdoor spaces filled with furniture and potted plants. Others were junk heaps. Pauline had lived on the second floor. Her balcony was empty, and when they had last checked, her apartment was bare-bones. No surprise, since she had moved in with Elsie about six months prior to her death. As Decker pulled the car into one of the visitors’ spots, he spied Jake Quay standing in a sliver of shade. He wasn’t a really big man, but wearing his uniform tans along with a big hat and an overloaded duty belt, he looked like authority. Decker rolled down the window and gave Quay a wave. The gesture was answered with a nod from Quay. They convened on the sidewalk.

Decker said, “Everything square with your captain?”

“Yep. We all want to get to the bottom of this, pronto.” Quay pulled something from his pocket. “Here is a map of the area—all the stores and restaurants.”

“Thank you.”

“How do you want to divide it up?”

“You take half, McAdams and I will take the other half.” Decker showed Quay a photograph of Brock Baer. “This man is Pauline’s second husband. He’s a bad apple, and we can’t seem to find him. You can keep this picture. We have others. Show it around, and maybe we can establish a connection between Pauline and him.”

“Are you looking at him as her murderer?”

“I’m open-minded,” Decker said. “Elsie Schulung is missing, so she’s still on the list, because of Pauline’s blood in her apartment. But there wasn’t much of it, and I believe that Pauline was attacked elsewhere.”

“Not in her old apartment,” Quay said. “Forensics didn’t find anything.”

“No, she wasn’t murdered in her apartment. I’d bet that she was murdered closer to Elsie’s house. How far is the center of town from her house?”

“Hmm … Elsie’s a little farther out. About a half mile to the north.”

“Which is here on the map you gave me?” Decker pointed to a spot.

“Yes.”

“Then McAdams and I will start there. It would be helpful if you started where Pauline had lived … see if someone remembers her with Brock Baer.”

“That’s fine.” Quay hit the picture with his fingertips. “He looks like a bad apple.”

“That’s good,” Decker said. “Bad apples are memorable. It’s the good-looking apples that are the most dangerous. If you don’t believe me, just ask Snow White.”

CHAPTER 15

CLOSING THE DOOR to his downstairs office and tapping his phone, Donatti said, “Yes?”

“We got him.” It was the same voice he had been talking with for the past weeks. They were becoming fast friends.