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talking. So he just stuck to everything he had seen o r heard that night, sparing that one detail he did not wish to go into. Pat was not happy, but after thinking it through, she decided to honor his wishes.
    “I just told them what I knew.”
    “I know, Devon.” Her eyes soften. “That’s all you can do.”
    After a while, he straightens himself in his chair. “So if I didn’t kill her, who do you think did?”
    The look that passes through her face is guarded.

 
BARRICADE
     
    Abby freezes in the doorway at the specter of her father. Intellectually, she knew he would be coming for her, but she didn’t expect it to be so soon.
    She tries to slam the door on him, but he instantly stops it with his arm. He is a big man. Brawny and well-built.
    “Come on, Abby,” he pleads. “I didn’t come all the way down here for you to do this.”
    She pushes against the closing door with all her might.
    “I don’t want to see you,” she pants.
    “We have to talk.” He is stronger than she is, and he heaves his shoulder against the door.
    She is rapidly losing her battle.
    “Don’t come in or I’ll scream,” she warns.
    “I just want to talk, Abby. I don’t expect you to come home. Please?”
    The door moves against her, gaining another inch.
    Abby throws back her head and screams.
    “Abby! ” Her father’s voice is pained.
    But no neighbor pops their door open. Maybe at this time of day, everyone has gone out to work already, and the kids and old folks are too frightened.
    Abby’s arms and shoulder weaken, and she has no choice but to let her father in . His big, burly frame crosses the threshold and steps into the apartment. He blocks the outlet with his body. He is hardly winded.
    “I’m not going to hurt you, baby,” her father says gently.
    He has her exact coloring – dark, stormy eyes, dark hair. Only she is slight and he is huge, towering well over six feet four. They even look alike. You can see it in the shapes of their noses, their jaws. He is a man in his fifties – still strong and hearty and youthful-looking.
    “He had no right to call you,” Abby lashes.
    “Helmut did the right thing. He knew I was very concerned about you.”
    “It’s my money! It’s my right what I want to do with it.”
    “This is not about the money, Abby. This is about you and me. You left so suddenly . . . I had no time to explain – ”
    “I don’t want to talk to you.”
    “Please, baby.”
    She turns abruptly away. “I have nothing to say to you.”
    He locks the door behind him. Now she is trapped.
    Please come back, Devon, she pleads.

 
SUSPICION
     
    “It could be anyone,” Claire declares. “She had a lot of people who would like to see her dead.”
    A strange sensation crawls down Devon’s spine. He had issues with Rachel, but those were professional issues. He didn’t think anyone else would like to see her dead over any issues she had with them.
    Issues can be solved, surely.
    “Do you suspect anyone?” he asks.
    “Suspect anyone? I suspect everyone !” she says vehemently.
    The customers at the other tables turn to look.
    “Keep your voice down,” Devon says.
    “Why should I? My friend is dead, and I am rightfully upset.”
    Devon shakes his head and leans forward. “OK, so you suspect everyone. Can you pinpoint who exactly is on the top of your suspicion list?”
    Claire’s nostrils flare.
    “Did she ever mention her brother, Richard, to you?”
    “No.” Devon remembers distinctly that Abby has mentioned working with a creepy male boss. “Does he run her store?”
    “The one that sells vases? Zipangu? Yes, he does. Well, Richard hates her.”
    “Why so?”
    “She was the one who inherited all the money. She was an heiress to a large fortune, did you know?”
    Devon shakes his head. But he has already come to terms with the fact that he doesn’t know Rachel Krieg at all. And come to think of it, he doesn’t really know Claire either. Or Abby, for the matter. He just