Silence Of The Hams

said. “Any well-dressed, well-groomed, rich-looking woman of the same age and coloring could be mistaken for her.“
    “The other description we got of someone who actually might have gone into the apartment sounds quite a lot like your friend LeAnne Doherty,“ Mel said.
    Jane sighed. “I was afraid of that.“ She and Shelley told him about their odd conversation with LeAnne at the grocery store.
    “But she didn’t say she’d been there?“ Mel asked when they had stopped talking.
    “She didn’t say anything, just asked a lot of strange questions. Like how well Jane knew you and what you’d told her,“ Shelley said. “And what you’d found in the apartment.“
    “It wasn’t what she said so much as her manner,“ Jane added. “She was very nervous. White-knuckled and high-pitched. But Mel, you can’t really suspect her.“
    “Why not? Because you like her?“ he asked, taking another cookie.
    “No. Because she isn’t the least bit canny.“
    “Jane,“ he said with impatience, “criminals can be pretty dumb. That’s one of the reasons they get caught so often. In fact, lots of times they seem to almost go out of their way to blab about the crime and make themselves look suspicious. A surprising number of them actually make scrapbooks of the clippings about the crime.“
    “Mel, don’t say that. I don’t want it to be LeAnne,“ Jane admitted. “She’s a bit dim, but really nice and she’s had a hard enough time of it the last few years.”
    Mel took his empty milk glass to the sink and rinsed it out. “Okay. If it makes you feel better, I’m inclined to doubt she’s the perp anyway. At least on the basis of what we know now.“
    “Which is?“
    “The pathology boys say their first impression is that Weyrich died between one and three. The red-haired woman who might have been your friend LeAnne was seen around noon.“
    “Thank goodness!“ Jane said.
    “Now, now! I knew you’d do that if I told you,“ Mel said regretfully. “It doesn’t let her off the hook. Not completely. For one thing, she might have come back. For another, the lab people are basing their preliminary findings on body temperature and it’s not all that reliable, especially under the circumstances.“
    “What circumstances?“ Shelley asked.
    “The apartment was air-conditioned,“ Mel said. “And it was set as cold as it can be. We have no idea if the murderer turned it down for some reason and the apartment gradually got colder and colder, or whether Weyrich always kept it cold in there. That alone could account for the missing hour. And there’s another factor—she had one of those caller identification things on her phone. She got a call at five minutes after noon that she apparently didn’t answer because there’s a dial tone on her answering machine at the same time. Maybe she saw who was calling and didn’t answer. But maybe she was already dead.”
    “Who was the call from?“ Jane asked eagerly.
    Mel smiled at her. “A roofing and siding company. Sorry.“
    “Mel, how are you ever going to figure this out?“ Shelley asked. “It seems like such a huge, amorphous wad of information.“
    “Slowly. Carefully. Bit by tiny bit,“ he said grimly. “And without any interference from you two if I can manage it.”
    Jane and Shelley ignored this comment. “Do you think the two incidents are connected?“ Shelley asked. “Emma’s death and Stone-cipher’s?“
    “Maybe. When two people from one small office die within a couple days of each other, one by murder and one under strange circumstances, that has to be a possibility,“ he said.
    “Isn’t there physical evidence from either one?“ Jane asked. “Fibers, fingerprints, blood drops, that kind of thing?“
    “Tons in Emma’s case, ninety-nine percent of which will turn out to be entirely irrelevant,“ he said. “And the same is true at the deli. But eventually it’ll fall together.”
    Jane gave him A Look. “You’re not telling us everything, are you?”
    He just smiled back. “Am I supposed to? How’s Mike liking his new truck?“ he asked, signifying that police confidences were over.16 Shelley called first thing in the morning. “The paper says Stonecipher’s funeral is this morning. Are we going?“
    “Shelley, you know how I hate funerals. Do we have to?“
    “No, but aren’t you curious to see how the grieving widow who was about to divorce the late unlamented carries it off? Her wardrobe choice alone ought to