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“You were planning on, um, having sex with him? Is that what you mean?”
    â€œI thought that might happen, yes,” said Sharon.
    Horowitz leaned back in his chair and looked at Marcia Benetti.
    â€œSo you’re saying that’s why you went to your ex-husband’s room,” Benetti said to Sharon. “To have sex with him.”
    â€œMaybe,” Sharon said.
    Horowitz leaned forward. “You’ve been divorced for how long?”
    â€œTen years. It’ll be eleven next September.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy what?” asked Sharon. “Why did we get divorced?”
    Horowitz nodded.
    Sharon shook her head. “We didn’t love each other anymore. We were unhappy.” She shrugged. “No dramatic reason, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
    â€œI wasn’t looking for anything,” Horowitz said.
    â€œIt was mutual,” she said. “Nobody’s fault.”
    â€œMr. Coyne here was your divorce lawyer?”
    â€œNo,” Sharon said. “Mr. Coyne handled our veterinary business. My husband’s and mine. When we were married. Brady did not do my divorce, but he’s my attorney now.”
    â€œKids?”
    She frowned. “Excuse me?”
    â€œYou and your husband,” he said. “Ex-husband, I mean. Did you have children?”
    â€œYes,” she said. “Two. A girl and a boy. Ellen and Wayne.”
    â€œHow old?”
    â€œThen or now?”
    â€œNow.”
    Sharon frowned for a moment, then said, “Ellen’s twenty-five. Wayne’s twenty-two.”
    â€œAnd where are they now?”
    â€œBoth in school,” she said. “Ellen’s getting her master’s at BU. Wayne’s a junior at Webster State College in New Hampshire.”
    â€œSo how did they get along with your—with their father?”
    She shrugged. “They had the normal issues, I guess.”
    â€œNormal?” asked Horowitz.
    â€œThey resented him,” she said. “They resented both of us, really. For splitting. For wrecking our lovely little family. They were angry.”
    â€œDid they keep in touch with him?”
    â€œKen, you mean?”
    Horowitz nodded.
    â€œI don’t honestly know about that,” Sharon said.
    â€œHow about you?”
    â€œI haven’t talked with Wayne for a while. Ellen and I have remained close.”
    â€œHow long is a while?”
    Sharon glanced at me, then looked at Horowitz. “A couple of years.”
    Horowitz’s eyebrow went up. “You haven’t communicated with your son for two years?”
    Sharon nodded. “Maybe a little longer than that, actually.”
    â€œCan you tell us how to reach Wayne and Ellen?”
    â€œYou consider my children to be suspects?” Sharon asked.
    â€œEverybody’s suspects,” said Horowitz.
    â€œI can give you their phone numbers and addresses, sure,” she said.
    â€œGive her something to write on,” Horowitz said to Marcia Benetti.
    Benetti slid a pad of paper and a pen across the table to Sharon, who took an old-fashioned hand-sized address book from her purse and copied out some information on the pad of paper, which she then pushed back to Benetti.
    â€œThank you,” said Horowitz.
    Sharon shrugged.
    â€œOkay, good,” said Horowitz. “So, back to your husband—your ex-husband, I mean, Kenneth—he was living in Baltimore? That right?”
    She nodded. “His office was in a suburb just outside the city.”
    â€œHis veterinary office.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow would you characterize your relationship with your ex-husband for the past ten, almost eleven years?”
    â€œWe were divorced,” she said. “We lived in different states. We had occasional long-distance telephone conversations or anexchange of e-mails, mostly about our children. Otherwise, until last fall, Ken and I didn’t have any kind of