“Well, that’s good—Alex, is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” I said. “Like what?”

“Anything, Alex.”

“If you could solve cold cases, that would be helpful.”

“Cold cases,” he said. “A murder.”

I nodded.

“The body may be cold,” he said, “but I wonder if the memory ever really cools. Care to tell me about it?”

I didn’t. Yes, I did.

CHAPTER

23

I described the Ingalls murder without mentioning names or places or the murder book. But there was no sense withholding Milo’s name. Bert Harrison had met Milo, had given a statement to Milo on the Bad Love case.

As I talked, he rarely allowed his gaze to wander from my face.

When I finished, he said, “This girl—the one who poisoned the dog—sounds monstrous.”

“At the very least, severely disturbed.”

“First a dog, then a person . . . that’s the typical pattern . . . though you have only the neighbor’s accusation to go on.”

“The behavioral warning in the girl’s chart is consistent with the neighbor’s report. She didn’t belong in that school, Bert. String-pulling by her family probably got her in—safe hiding during the investigation of the murder.”

He folded his hands in his lap. “And no word on the other possible victim . . . I assume Milo’s been looking for her.”

“No sign of her, yet,” I said. “Most likely she’s dead. The disturbed girl seems to have vanished, completely. No paper trail at all. That reeks of more string-pulling.”

“A supportive family,” he said.

“In terms of aiding and abetting.”

“Hmm . . . Alex, if the case was taken out of Milo’s hands twenty years ago, how did he manage to be reassigned?”

“He was unofficially reassigned,” I said. “By someone who knew we worked together and was sure I’d give him the message.”

“What message, Alex?”

I thought about how much to say. Told him about the murder book and its probable link to Pierce Schwinn.

“Pierce?” he said. “So that’s why you’re here.”

“You knew him?”

“I did. I know his wife, Marge, as well. Sweet woman.”

“Milo and I were up at her ranch a few days ago,” I said. “It’s a good bet Schwinn assembled that book, but the only photos of his she claims to know about are nature shots.”

“Claims?” said Harrison. “You doubt her?”

“She seemed truthful.”

“I’d believe her, Alex.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she’s an honest woman.”

“And Schwinn?”

“I have nothing bad to say about him either.”

“How well did you know him, Bert?”

“We ran into each other from time to time. In town—shopping, at the Little Theater.”

“Are you aware of any confidante he might’ve had other than Marge? Someone he’d have trusted to send the book? Because it was mailed to me seven months after he died.”

“You’re certain it emanated from Pierce?”