“The Bower. Anyway, all four years of college yearbooks out on the desk. Nothing else out, nothing out of place. But there were those yearbooks. And one of them was opened to the page about the Sigil and Shield. From what must have been your senior year. It was the most recent yearbook. That’s why I ask if he was sentimental. Why would he have those out and be looking through them now? It seems odd, given the complications with Jennifer Bates and his impending wedding. You’d think his mind would be on other things, right?”

“I don’t know, Detective.”

And I really didn’t. There was nothing in the yearbook about the accident. Nothing about the Sigil and Shield being suspended for a year. They kept things like that out of a yearbook. No one wanted to look back on bad memories.

What Blake wanted from The Bower’s pages, I couldn’t guess.

Rountree turned to the two officers. “Will one of you close that window and make sure everything is locked? Then sit on the place in case anyone comes back.”

The two officers jumped to it. Rountree folded her arms again and studied my face. She even tilted her head a little, trying to get a better angle.

“I need a favor from you, Mr. Francis. I need you to answer a question. Something I learned a little earlier today just came back to me, and it’s really sticking in my craw.”

“What’s that?”

“We had a witness come forward a little while ago. A gentleman who lives in Ms. Bates’s neighborhood. It turns out he was walking his dog last night, not long before the body was discovered.”

I stayed still, tried to keep my face neutral. I felt like an insect pinned to somebody’s display board. Exposed. Helpless.

Desperately in trouble.

“He saw a man creeping around the area, and he gave us a description of the man. You weren’t around there last night, were you?”

“I told you where I was.”

“Not exactly an answer,” Rountree said. She turned and started to walk off, but she abruptly stopped and came back to me. “You know what we can do, Mr. Francis? We can go down to the station. You can stand in a lineup and this gentleman can come in and, well, then he can tell us if it was you who he saw near the crime scene. How does that sound?”

“Not pleasant.”

“It isn’t.” She toed the ground, her arms still crossed. “When those officers come out of the house again, I could get them to cuff you and bring you down to the station, whether you like it or not.”

“I guess you could,” I said. “And I could call a lawyer who probably wouldn’t want me to stand in any lineups. I’ve already been cooperating with you.”

“By trespassing in your friend’s house.”