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turning down a tree-lined lane. “Old Post Road. Jeez, think these people are rich enough?”
    The Adlers’ house fit in well with the neighborhood, and so did the Adlers, Lee noted as he and Jimmy were ushered into their home. Tasteful, well-spoken, understated—and rich. At least they had worked for their money, Lee thought, since they were both physicians. Dr. Eli Adler was short, Jewish and energetic, and Dr. Rachel Adler was willowy, blond and reserved. It was obvious Lisa had gotten her looks from her mother.
    Jimmy and Lee were led into a living room with a Steinway concert grand and a Persian rug the size of the Croton Reservoir. The whole place dripped with taste and money, from the elegant Japanese silk screens to the Tiffany lamps and inlaid card table. Complimenting the couple on their aesthetic sense after they had just lost their only daughter seemed inappropriate, so Lee took a seat on the olive green sofa next to Jimmy, who whipped out a notebook and rested it on his knee, pen poised.
    “I suppose you’d like to know if we have any idea who’d want to hurt our daughter,” Mrs. Adler said, folding her elegant hands on her lap. She wore a simple blue silk blouse over straight black pants, her ash blond hair pulled back in a tight bun. “Well, we don’t. Everyone loved Lisa.”
    “No, ma’am,” said Jimmy. “Actually, we’d just like to hear you say anything that comes to mind.”
    Dr. Eli Adler frowned and twisted the thick gold wedding ring on his left hand. He wore a black turtleneck over gray slacks and creamy brown leather loafers. “Anything?”
    “Anything at all. It doesn’t even have to relate to your daughter.”
    Mrs. Adler gave a little cough, as if the detective had just committed a faux pas she was too polite to point out. “Isn’t that a little— vague , Detective?”
    “It’s the way I work. You’ve undergone a terrible shock, and your brains are already having trouble processing what’s happened. So rather than ask you to focus on specific questions, I like to start out by letting you say whatever’s on your mind.”
    “I’ll tell you what’s on my mind,” her husband said. “I’d like to get into a dark alley with the animal that did this to our Lisa. Just five minutes—that’s all I ask. I swear, I wouldn’t care what happened to me, as long as I—”
    His wife laid a hand on his arm. “Eli, I don’t think that’s the kind of thing the detective is talking about.”
    “Actually, that’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about,” Jimmy said. He turned to Mrs. Adler. “What about you?”
    “I—I can’t really . . .” She looked down at her hands, and a single sob shook her body. No tears fell, though, and when she looked up again, her face was contorted with grief and fury. “I—want—to— rip — his — face — off .” The words shot from her mouth like bullets. Lee could see that her rage was even deeper than her husband’s. Mr. Adler looked at her with astonishment, as if he had not known her to be capable of such feelings.
    “Okay,” said Jimmy. “I understand that you’re both angry.”
    “No, Detective, I don’t think you do understand,” Mrs. Adler continued. “ ‘Angry’ doesn’t cut it, not by a long shot. I think what my husband and I are saying is that we’d like to kill someone—specifically, the man who . . . did this to Lisa.”
    “How do you know it’s a man?” Lee asked.
    She looked at him with pity mixed with contempt. “Oh, really . I don’t even watch those crime shows on TV, but even I know that this kind of crime points to a sexually motivated predator. Stop me if you’ve heard this one.”
    “Okay,” said Jimmy. “So, any ideas?”
    She looked at her husband, who shook his head. “Lisa’s boyfriend, Carl, is the nicest kid on the planet. He’s devastated. We know his parents—his father was the rabbi at our son’s bar mitzvah.”
    “So it wasn’t her boyfriend,” Jimmy said. “Anyone