“It’s the whole ‘small world’ thing. Her brother’s a carpenter. Actually, her stepbrother, Gus Jardine. He works for Cahill on the tiny houses or sometimes in the tree lot, as I understand it, so she ran into Cahill again—or something. I don’t have all the details yet, but I’m going to schedule a face-to-face.”

“Jardine’s her alibi.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come with you on the interview.”

“It’s an hour and a half in good weather, probably over two now, and that’s if the roads are clear.”

“I’m okay with that. So, go on. Somewhere along the way, she and Cahill stopped seeing each other?”

“Cahill doesn’t stay with one woman too long. At least, that’s his track record. From Jennifer Korpi, he moved on to Rebecca Travers.” Another finger joined the first one. “That lasted a few months, until he and the sister, Megan, got together.” A third finger stood at attention. “And then, lately, while still involved with Megan, or at least so she thought, he took up with Sophia Russo, a woman who works for him. Pretty fast by most people’s standards.”

“All within a year?”

She shrugged. “Maybe a year and a half. Still nailing that down.”

“Fast work.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyone else?” His phone buzzed, and he saw that it was, again, the reporter for the Clarion, Charity Spritz, so he ignored it.

“Those are the most recent, the ones we know about.”

“To start with.”

She nodded. “Who knows what might come out of the woodwork when we start digging? Not to mention that we could discover a jealous boyfriend or two.”

“Or an old enemy, someone he screwed over or was perceived to have screwed over.” He saw her make a face. “But you’re focused on the ex-girlfriend angle.”

“So far it’s the only angle we’ve got,” she reminded him.

“Just the most obvious,” he pointed out. “He’s rich, or will be. Wealthy heirs attract interest.”

“But he’s not the victim.”

“No . . .”

They both thought about that a moment, then Mendoza said, “He’s not the last person to have seen her alive. There’s Knowlton, the snowplow driver, and a woman in town, all of whom said they saw her driving after the fight.”

Rivers scratched his head and frowned at the image of James Cahill in his battered jeans, work shirt, and well-practiced smile that stared at him from his computer screen. Was it a lovers’ quarrel? But with something else at play?

He said, “Megan Travers is missing, not James Cahill. Aside from a few scratches, a lack of memory, and his bruised reputation, he really wasn’t harmed. If he was the ultimate target, why take out the girlfriend?”

“Doesn’t make sense,” agreed Mendoza.