The weekend was a mix of weather that had people out basking and the next minute scrambling for umbrellas. Ray stayed in the hotel and worked the telephone, calling various residents up and down the bay, asking about their rentals during the period Adelaide was murdered. Most said they couldn't help because they didn't keep records like that. A few had information but none of it sounded worthwhile and he was becoming despondent over his lack of success.

The car carol Walther had seen was not seen by anyone else yet her description seemed so positive. He mused about the fact that the ski racks might just as easily been the light bar like those on the cruisers. Another difficult question to answer.

Irene had let him treat her to a lunch at the Lazy Daffodil and she was suitably impressed by both the fact that she'd never heard of the place before and that he found it and wasn't even a resident of the town. They're talk was mostly small, sticking to the fringe of personal information and, for Irene's part, trying to avoid any further discussion of her loan problems.

When Tuesday rolled around, she made her first visit to Elwood's condo and undertook the task of cleaning. He couldn't have left it in worse condition, with clothes tossed among the sheets of the unmade bed, dishes with dried food still sitting on the table and papers scattered everywhere. On the counter, in a big note done with red marker, was a list of several grocery items that he wanted her to buy and to her dismay he had not left any money.

Angry, she made a mental note to keep all the bills and deduct them from her loan. This happened to be the first night she was to cook as well and with the same marker, which she found standing in a jar on the counter, she made a note of her own about what time she would arrive to get his dinner. Tuesday's were normally slow at the hotel so she figured she could beg off a little early to cook Woody's meal and still be home before ten.

Business taken care of, she settled into her task with little wasted time or energy. When she left she laughed at the fact that he wouldn't begin to know where to look for the things he'd left scattered bout.

******

Oliver read the coded e-mail and chuckled with pleasure. His little housewife from the Bay was becoming very special as a steady, lucrative buyer. If he could determine whether it was for her or not he would up the price but for now maybe a small increase might shine some light on its final use. The order had always been for five hundred and was always delivered by courier to the Thompson Bay bank, which Oliver found hilarious.

Obviously someone in the bank was accepting the deliveries, someone his little housewife was able to enlist. This time she wanted a thousand dollars worth and he was only too happy to comply—Oliver's resume now read, successful facilitator.

******

Ray stared at his chart. The piece of card he'd purchased from the craft store stood leaning against the wall above the dresser. It contained the names of all the principal characters with connecting lines he was certain of in blue and suspicious of, in red. Times and dates ran down one side of the chart with asterisks associating them with the various names.

"Talk to me, damnit," he snapped at his project. "This works in the movies. They get it all on a board and everything becomes clear." He made a face a looked around feeling silly about talking to himself. At least it helped get his thoughts out and hearing them helped sort them more sensibly.

He traced the lines with his finger, muttering theories as he went. Three names kept standing out: Elwood Peters, Stella O'Hare and Oliver Attura. He considered how the groupings kept changing as his various theories changed although Stella and Elwood were a constant. He added Williams to the group and frowned at the mess he was making of the chart. Still, there was really nothing that gave them motive or even a logical connection with Adelaide other than Oliver as a classmate.

He couldn't see someone in Peters' position filching a one time measly five hundred dollars from a regular client of the bank. It didn't make any sense, and Oliver must have known how much he made the deal for; why would he not balk at the so-called clean up charges? Why not contact O'Hare and complain? A car's brakes squealed outside and he wandered to the window for a look.

The weather was improving each day and he could see more fat robins hopping in the flat park grass and squirrels racing through the newly budding branches of the trees. Spring was pushing its way into the year. A woman climbed out of a parked car and slammed the door angrily, looking down the road at something and then marching toward his side of the street. He strained to see down the road but nothing was visible and a moment later she was out of sight. A touch of road rage maybe?

He went back to the chart and stopped short; the feeling about Russell and Oliver from a few days ago sneaked back into his thoughts and on a hunch, Ray found the number for Russell's family and placed a call. After several rings it was answered by a tired, wary voice.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Church?"

"Who is this, please?"

"It's Raymond Simmons, you remember we had a long talk several years ago? I'm Adelaide Balfour's uncle." Silence took hold of the line and all he could hear was a stifled, strained breathing. "Mrs. Church? I'm not trying to bother you or be a nuisance in any way but I'm looking into my niece's death and I would really appreciate it if you could tell me whether your son had a lot to do with Oliver Attura?"

The silence continued for a moment and then the voice returned. "They were classmates."

"Yes, I know but was there anything more? Did they chum around or do things together at all?"

"Russell was very much outside the mainstream at university... because of his- his condition. I think we went through all of that."

"We did and I was completely on your side. I don't believe for a minute that Russell had anything to do with it. My suspicions are directed at Oliver at the moment."

"All I can tell you about Oliver Attura is that for someone who needed financial assistance to attend school he always seemed to have plenty of money for partying and clothes and things. I don't know where he got it or how. I think I'd like to say goodbye now, Mr. Simmons, I don't like to go over those memories if you don't mind."

"Of course. I understand and thanks for your time. Keep well, Mrs. Church. Oh! One thing more, if I may?"

"Yes."

Do you know where Russell is?"

"Sadly, no. Goodbye now." Ray thanked her again and hung up. That woman will be sad and sorry for the rest of her life. He went back to his chart.

"So you always had lots of money eh, Oliver?" Ray jabbed a finger at Oliver's name. "How did you manage that?" He looked up the names of the detectives that interviewed the students in the city and placed another call, finding himself directed to a Detective Anthony Torinni. After several questions involving his relationship to the crime and explanations for his current interest, Ray learned that Oliver Attura had a few brushes with the law over small amounts of drugs.

Nothing too serious and nothing resulting in charges but since graduation he was a person of interest in the growing use of drugs on campus. No proof, just suspicion. Ray thanked the detective and hung up, turning back to the chart and staring at Elwood's name.

Oliver paid Elwood more than he'd agreed to. Elwood didn't take the money for himself; he took it for Stella. Why? What did he have to gain? Roger wouldn't know the difference because his account would show what was on the original lease. Stella was using it to buy drugs from Oliver! His revelation gave him a jolt of excitement and he scribbled the word drugs, in blue marker, next to Stella's name.

"Question now is," Ray asked the room, "what did Stella do with five hundred dollars worth of drugs? Did she spend it all? Was it for her or someone else? Or both? Roger? No way. He wouldn't let her handle deals like that. Williams?" Now there's a thought. He drew a red line from Stella to Williams and from Oliver to Stella.

Ray frowned again at the mess he was making but the bothering element was that while drugs might have been involved or at least part of the reason, Adelaide's tox report hadn't indicated anything that looked dangerously addictive except for too much alcohol, so was there any connection? Another chat with Duffy might throw some light on his suspicions.

******

Theo Hersch laughed when Williams warned him about messing with the young girls at the beach party. In his mind there was nothing he couldn't do wearing the police uniform. The perception of authority made people do the strangest things and Theo had enjoyed his share of many of those. Williams shouldn't be throwing stones, he'd answered, considering he was messing with his buddy's wife even after getting caught once.

The broad had already had a few too many and when he braced her about it she realized she could be in deep trouble. Theo dragged out his concerned policeman routine and questioned her about drugs the others might be using, assuring her he was only interested in everyone's welfare. He wasn't looking to create a big stink.

He'd asked if she had any he could see a sample to make certain they weren't into something bad and she had balked, accusing him of coming on to her. Theo had dropped the charm and told her she'd better come onto him or there would be big trouble for all of them. The young woman had told him to go to hell, and left.

The two men had argued over his actions and it became heated to the point that Theo threatened that he also knew what Williams and Stella were up to with certain entrepreneurial activities and if he knew what was good for him he'd mind his own bloody business about Theo's behaviour.

Stella listened to Garth's concerns on her cell phone, in the shower. Roger was swilling his beer in front of the TV so she felt relatively secure.

"How did he find out, we've only just started?"

"He knows the same people I'm doin' business with, it's not a big stretch. This is not good, Stel," Garth warned. "Theo's got a big mouth."

"What about talking to him?"

"For Christ's sake, haven't you been listening? You can't talk to Theo but Theo could talk to Roger."

"Oh, God... would he? I mean why..."

"Because he's a mean bastard, that's why."

"But with what you have on him what could he do? He'd sign the finish to his own career."

"And ours. Theo wouldn't give a shit if he thought we'd all go down together."

She poked her head outside the shower curtain and listened for any sound of Roger. "Do you think we should cut him in?"

"No goddamn way! I'm not going into business with Theo Hersch."

"Baby, what can we do?"

Garth sighed massively. "Leave it with me, I'll think of something. As soon as the provincials leave town and the hubbub dies down I'll take care of Theo. Winter's a better time anyway."

"How? What are thinking of doing?"

"Never mind, just you keep our transactions moving, I'll take care of the rest."

"Oh Garth... I love you, baby. I can't wait..."

"Same here, Stel. Just hang tight."