“I’d like to say ‘a pleasure,’ ” Knowlton said, glancing at the badge Mendoza had flashed, “but under the circumstances? Not so much.” He shook her hand as well, then added, “I go by Bobby. Christened Robert, but my folks called me Bobby as a kid, and the name just stuck. Look, I don’t know why I’m here. I mean, I already gave my statement to some deputy, and I just don’t know what more I can tell ya.” He was nervously searching the pockets of his battered jacket. He pulled out a crumpled box of Marlboros, then changed his mind and shoved the pack back inside. “As I said, I gave my statement two days ago to a deputy.”

“Kate Mercado,” Mendoza said.

Bobby gave a quick nod. “That’s her.”

Rivers met the questions in the foreman’s eyes. “I’d just like to go over it one more time.”

“Oookay.” Knowlton paused. “You’re not thinkin’ I had somethin’ to do with all this,” he said, suddenly suspicious. “’Cuz that’s just plain crazy talk. You know?”

Rivers hadn’t gone there, but he let the foreman run his mouth just to see what he had to say. “I was down at the Brass Bullet. Kinda my thing after work. I was there for two, maybe two and a half hours, waitin’ on a feed delivery that was held up ’cuz of the weather, s’posed to come in later, after hours. Y’know?” His bushy eyebrows rose beneath his cap. When Rivers didn’t respond, he frowned and held up a hand. “Well, hey. If you don’t believe me talk to Mike, the bartender, Mike—oh, what’s his name—Mike . . . Mike.” He snapped his fingers. “Mike McGillicuddy. Yeah, that’s it. Talk to him. He’ll tell ya.”

Rivers said, “I just wanted to hear it myself.”

Knowlton took a second to size him up, seemed satisfied with what he saw, and said, “Well, okay, then. Let’s go inside. Freezin’ our asses out here.”

That was the first statement the foreman uttered that Rivers accepted as fact. As Knowlton began unlocking the front door, a dog began to put up a ruckus, barking and scratching on the other side of the thick oak door. “That’s Ralph,” Knowlton explained, then yelled through the panels as he let himself in. “Ralph! Hush! Geez, hold your horses, will ya? I’m comin’.” To the detectives, he half-apologized. “The deal is that I said I’d take care of Ralph, didn’t want him to be taken by animal control or whatever. He’s fine.”

He didn’t sound fine. It sounded as if the dog intended to shred the door to pieces while barking his fool head off.

“Is he dangerous?” Rivers asked and saw that Mendoza had backed up a step.

“Ralph? Nah. It’s the whole ‘bark is worse than his bite’ thing, y’know?”