“When the local Brickson police discovered all this, they called the FBI in New York City to investigate her as a possible Serial. I’ve worked the case solid for a week now, turning over every rock I can find. I hate to admit it, Sherlock, but I’ve hit a wall; I can’t see my way through to nailing Angela Storin. And I know she’s guilty. I’ve interviewed her, of course, not that she said much; her lawyer did the talking. She simply repeated she was innocent, but she barely kept the smirk behind her eyes. But I saw that smirk, that gleam of ‘I’m smarter than you,’ and she knew I knew, but—” Kelly shrugged. “She did it on purpose, all the while acting like this brave little soldier being tortured by the gestapo. I’ve studied people like her, Sherlock, as have you. Other than the placid façade she never dropped, I still saw the arrogance. And I could see there’s something off about her, something missing, you could say. The lead police detective I spoke to believed that, too, said when he spoke to her she was ‘scary calm,’ utterly emotionless, and expressed surprise he even called her, much less actually came to see her, to question her. Her? And that’s why he was pleased to turn it over to us.

“She has flummoxed everyone, Sherlock; even the lead detective in Brickson admitted it. He told me he was relieved to hand over the case to the FBI and that I was made the lead.”

Sherlock said, “So she admitted the affair. Did she admit Dr. Madison had broken it off?”

“She didn’t deny it, she couldn’t, but added that that sort of affair always fizzles out, no harm no foul, both parties unhurt. But according to Madison’s sister, he said he’d slept with her for about six weeks, but got his act together, realized he loved his wife, and told Storin it was over. When asked about this, Storin said his sister hates her, and we can’t believe anything she says about her or their affair.

“You’ve seen her photo. Storin’s a plain, frumpy forty-year-old woman who wears low beige pumps, suits in dull colors with no particular style, no makeup, hair that hangs limp. The thing is, behind that plain and proper person she presents to the world, she’s what I said—she’s arrogant, thinks she’s smarter than me, than everyone.

“She’s recognized as the best upper-end real estate agent in the area. The locals no longer wonder why she presents herself as a dowd, they just shake their heads, call it her shtick.”