"This is becoming harassment." Felicia almost stomped back to her sitting room.

"It's a murder investigation of your husband, Mrs. Harrison. I think you'd want us to be thorough."

"What do you want to ask now?" She flopped down in a chair, the previous posing forgotten.

"Well, we have a couple of problems." Art began. "The timeline established only leaves room for a mystery killer, who got into the apartment, killed your husband, and fled – avoiding any and all attention. Or, it was Jonas Wales. And we have him on camera within our timeline."

"That's ridiculous. Why on earth would Jonas kill Reggie?"

"Your insurance money." Gary answered, bluntly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We know you were having an affair, Mrs. Harrison, so let's drop the indignation.

"That's a lie!" She sat up, sitting with hands braced on the seat cushion.

"And I guess you weren't aware that he was also involved with his secretary."

Pink became the colour of the day as Felicia absorbed the news. "That's not- he wouldn't . . ."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we think Mr. Wales was using you, while you thought he was helping."

"No, that's not true. Jonas--" She blinked, and her mouth snapped shut.

"It's true, Mrs. Harrison. Your money, and Crystal." Art watched her face and decided to roll the dice. "And if you made a fuss, Mrs. Harrison, Jonas would report your driving incident." He held his breath, fists clenched. Come on, come on. Bite.

The pink vanished, replaced with a deathly white. Felicia's hand clutched her throat. "How . . .?" she croaked.

Yes! I owe you a dinner, Grace. Now for the next gamble. "Jonas knows we have him in the frame for Reggie's death. It's self-preservation."

"He wouldn't- he- you're bluffing." She began panting, but her wits seemed to have returned, and she stood up, ordering them from her house.

"I wouldn't bet on that, Mrs. Harrison."

"You're on thin ice, Detective, very thin ice. Now get out of my house."

"We need to get to Wales, fast. She'll be on the phone." Gary put the flasher on the roof as Art steered the car through the evening traffic. "Art? Art, you okay?" He stared at the traffic, wincing as the car threaded dangerously through intersections, horn blaring, and light flashing. "Hey, partner, an answer, okay?"

"Did you hear what she said when we left?"

"What?" Gary grunted as the car hit the curb, braking to a halt.

"Thin ice."

"What? So?"

Art was grinning as he climbed out of the car and headed for the apartment building.

"Huh? Wait a minute. What the heck are you talking about?"

"We'll soon know." He pressed the button for the elevator, and they rode to the seventh floor.

Jonas was waiting in the doorway and stepped back into the room, letting them follow.

"I take it you had a phone call." Art said, smiling.

"And I made one as well. To my lawyer. Mrs. Harrison is right, this is just police harassment."

"Did she mention anything else? Any queries about Crystal?"

Jonas glared at them and turned away to the window overlooking the city. "You should worry about your own queries, Detective," he said over his shoulder, "your chief should be getting a call right about now."

"How much of the money did you figure would be left for you and Crystal after you bailed out your company?"

Jonas turned around, smirking. "You're assuming Felicia would be giving me any money? How ludicrous."

"Oh, she'd hand it over. Either that or face the hit-and-run charge you could threaten her with."

The jolt registered with both detectives, and they shared a smile. "Something else, Mr. Wales," Art took out the coil of cardboard and held it up. "Look familiar?"

Jonas blinked, and his tongue dabbed his upper lip. "That's it. You have any more questions, ask my lawyer. Now please leave."

"Don't plan any jaunts with your secretary, Mr. Wales."

The elevator slid down silently, unlike Gary, who wanted to know what just happened.

"Thin ice, partner. Ice. The cone? A mould?" Art's eyebrows rose with each sentence.

"Are you saying he killed Reggie with an icicle?"

"Bingo. That's why there was no weapon found, or ever will be. I'm going to get the ME to verify this, but I know in my gut I'm right – about everything."

"We still have to have proof, Art. Supposition and circumstantial won't cut it with the Captain."

"First things first."

The ME looked up from his desk as the detectives entered his office. "I sent the tox report to your office."

"Did it show anything?"

"A lot of alcohol in the system, remember the wine bottle? I'd bet all of it."

"Nothing else?"

"Nope."

"I want you to look at something." Art took out the cone and handed it to the ME. "If somebody filled this with water and froze it, could the ice have killed Harrison?"

The glasses dropped from the forehead onto the nose, and the Doc studied the shape. "Leave it with me and I'll get back to you first thing tomorrow."

"Not sooner?"

"Tomorrow, detective." The glasses went back up and they were dismissed.

Rather than wait for a phone call the following morning, both detectives made their way to the ME's office. The owner gave a resigned chuckle.

"You did say first thing, Doc, and we only have until this afternoon." They moved to the table where he had his papers spread out. "What do you think, Doc, possible?" Art and Gary watched the medical officer compare the cone to photos of the wound in Harrison's neck.

"Had to fill and refreeze it, and experiment, but it's definitely possible. Bloody clever too. No wonder you couldn't find a weapon. Better take care of that, it is your only evidence - circumstantial though, what with no prints." The ME placed the cone in an evidence bag.

"Let's wait and see. Meantime, I'll borrow it and we'll have another chat with Mr. Wales."

                                                       ❄❄❄❄❄

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jonas tried to block the door but was shoved unceremoniously out of the way.

"I came to see your face when I ask you the same question I did on the phone." Her face was twisted with anger.

"Don't be stupid. They've jerked your chain and you fell for it." He strode to a side table and poured a drink, hesitating, then swallowing it all in one gulp. "How would they know anything like that?"

"How would they know!" She stormed. "They questioned your floozy secretary, that's how."

Jonas waved a hand in the air, his face growing dark. "If you had got rid of the damned thing like you were supposed to, none of this would be happening. And they have it, Felicia, so we have bigger problems."

"Me! You had the best opportunity. You were here, remember? I did my part, I brought it here that morning and set it up in the freezer."

"Yes, but when I took it apart it was soaking wet.  I had to put it in the garbage . . ." He tried to avoid looking guilty.

"Answer my question. Was what they said true? You and- and her – and the money?"

"I told you, no." He poured another drink, keeping from any eye contact.

"How did they know about the other . . . the accident?"

"Christ, Felicia, I don't know. They're investigators." He snarled.

"I don't believe you, Jonas."

The apartment intercom buzzed and they both froze. Felicia began to panic and Jonas swore, glaring at her and the intercom. "I have to answer, the concierge knows I'm in." He pushed the button and answered.

"Mr. Wales, Detectives Springer and Crawford, we have some questions."

"I told you, see my lawyer."

"We can all see him down at the station if that's what you prefer."

Jonas pressed the door button and turned to Felicia. "It's the police. You have to hide, there isn't time to get out."

"Hide? Where? What if they look?"

"Just- get in the bedroom – the closet. Hurry up, woman, damn it!" He shoved her down the short hall and into the bedroom, closing the door, and hurried back to answer the knock.