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brimming coffee cups and the doughnuts in their hands. She chastised herself for not thinking of it herself but was grateful that Tom had. She took a seat at the head of the table. Detective Davenport sat to her right. Sal pulled up a chair on her left. The rest of the men filled in the remaining seats.
    “Good morning, gentlemen.” She smiled at the men as they returned her greeting. “While you finish your breakfast, I’ll get this meeting started so we can get back out there as quickly as possible.”
    She shuffled through some papers in the pile in front of her and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Darlene is off this shift. I have a copy of her preliminary report. The autopsy reports aren’t available yet but we hope to have them by tomorrow. Detective Davenport’s team has verified that the plastic bag we recovered from the Hendersons’ bedroom did contain five pounds of high-grade cocaine.”
    “Five pounds?” Paul asked. “That’s not recreational use. The guy was a dealer.”
    “Did they get any prints off the bag?” Tom asked.
    “No prints. Not even Henderson’s. It was wiped clean.”
    Sal looked puzzled. “That doesn’t sit right with me. No prints? Not even his own? Why would the guy wipe his prints off the bag before hiding it under his mattress? Did he have some kind of sixth sense that he was going to get raided or something?”
    “Maybe he wore gloves,” Paul replied.
    “Maybe,” Sal answered. “But if he wore gloves every time he handled the bag, then where are the gloves? We haven’t found any, have we?”
    Liz scoured her evidence inventory sheets. “No gloves.”
    “See.” Sal leaned back in his chair. “Something stinks and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
    “Moving on.” Detective Davenport took over the lead. “Nothing significant has shown up in the Hendersons’ background check. Henderson was a model employee and well liked at his old job. They hated to see him leave but were happy for him when they heard he planned to start his own computer tech firm.”
    “Anyone express any animosity about the move?” Tom asked. “Any signs of jealousy that the guy was going to run his own business?”
    “Nothing that turned up in our initial interviews. Everyone seemed to sincerely wish him well. His boss not only gave him a letter of recommendation but was instrumental in helping him get his first client. Seems Third National Bank has a branch in Country Corners and was updating their computer software. Since his old firm holds the account, the boss threw the local business his way.”
    “What about the boy’s school?” Paul asked. “Anyone talk to any of his teachers? Maybe the parents had a falling-out with another parent or something.”
    “One of my men checked that out,” Davenport replied. “Jeremy had been in an Easter Seals special education preschool class when they lived in Tennessee. Kate chose to homeschool him once they moved here but not because of difficulties with the schools or parents. She just wanted to take a more hands-on approach to his education. She continued to take him to Poplar Bluff for occupational therapy three times a week.”
    “Anyone know what brought them here in the first place?” Sal asked.
    “I can answer that one,” Liz said. “Kate told me that she was born and raised in Poplar Bluff, which has grown quite a bit since she was a kid. They talked about it and wanted to settle somewhere a little more rural. They thought Country Corners would be the ideal suburban setting to raise children and yet still be close enough to take advantage of the things more populated areas had to offer.
    “Kate’s mother has dementia and lives in a nursing home in Poplar Bluff. Our town is still close enough that she could take Jeremy for his therapy and visit her mom, too. Seemed like the ideal situation.”
    “Didn’t work out quite the way they planned, did it?” quipped one of Davenport’s men, who was immediately censured with a glare