Tessa nodded, ran the back of her hand across her nose, and allowed Walt to enter her home. He followed her to the kitchen and accepted Tessa’s offer of coffee. She poured two cups and they sat at the kitchen table.

“Again, I’m sorry to give you no space during this difficult time, but my job is to figure out what happened to your husband, and to do it as quickly as possible. To that end, I need to ask some pointed questions.”

Tessa nodded again. “I understand.”

“Cameron was at your vacation home in the Catskills when he was killed. When was the last time you were at the house?”

“Over the Fourth of July.”

Walt pulled out his notepad. “Was it just you and your husband?”

“No, we were there with friends.”

“Can you provide names?”

“Jasper and Victoria Ford.”

“Good friends of yours?”

Tessa nodded, but Walt saw something change in her demeanor. “Jasper sold us our house in the Catskills. He was the realtor who brokered the deal. We invited him and his wife out for a sail to celebrate. We’ve been friends since then.”

“So, you’ve been friends for a couple of years or so?”

Tessa nodded. “Three.”

“You were last at the house over the Fourth, but not on July fourteenth or fifteenth, when your husband was killed?”

“No.”

“Was it common for your husband to go to the vacation house without you?”

“Yes. He was finishing a manuscript and often went to the mountains for quiet. He has a writing studio there, next to the house.”

Walt had been through Cameron Young’s work space, a small structure that stood across the creek on the north side of the home. It was a small replica of the A-frame log house, and was made up of a writing desk and computer on one side and a wood-burning fireplace and recliner on the other. A minibar stood in the corner and sported both a coffeemaker for mornings and a small collection of spirits for afternoon or evening. If Walt had a creative bone in his body, he would have marveled at the tranquil setting that had produced a string of best sellers over the last few years. But Walt Jenkins wasn’t creative, he was analytical. He took a clinical approach to the space and tried to learn if the writing studio offered any clues to what had happened to Cameron Young.

“When your husband went out to the Catskills, how long would he stay?”

“Depends on how far behind he was on a deadline. A day or two, usually. He didn’t always go alone. Sometimes I went with him. He has his studio, I have my office in the main house where I did my own work.”

“So you each had your own private work space?”

Tessa nodded.

“Were you and Cameron getting along?”

There was a pause. “Sometimes.”

Walt nodded. “How would you describe your marriage?”

“My marriage?”