The Night Killer

out of your way to keep Sheriff Conrad from being tempted to railroad?”
    “Yes,” said Diane, “the same.”
    “You’re sure?” he said.
    “I recognized the voice, but if you are asking if I could be mistaken . . . of course, there is always a chance. But he has a very distinctive voice,” said Diane.
    “I see why you want to investigate him.” David was silent a moment. “And that certainly makes the detective thing interesting, not to mention his interest in Andie.” He sighed. “Well, this could be messy. How are you going to handle it?”
    “I don’t know,” said Diane. “Is there a firm involved, or is it self-employment?”
    Diane was making an effort to disguise the topic of her conversation as much as possible from Mike and Neva. She didn’t want Andie’s business to become public knowledge, even if the public in question were good friends.
    “He has a partner. Apparently they own the agency together. The partner’s name is Louis Ruben. The name of the agency is Peachtree Investigative Services,” said David.
    “So he’s in Atlanta,” said Diane.
    “Looks like it,” said David.
    “Anything else?” asked Diane.
    “The Web site says he was a captain when he retired,” said David.
    “Is that good?” said Diane. “I know that’s ignorant, but I have no idea how that system works.”
    “Yes, I think that’s very good,” said David.
    “You think it’s true?” asked Diane.
    “I don’t think he could get away with having that on his Web site if it weren’t,” said David.
    “Thanks,” said Diane.
    “This is strange,” said David.
    “I know,” agreed Diane.
    “What was he doing in the woods? Not photographing owls, I’ll bet,” David said.
    “Probably not,” said Diane.
    Diane and David hung up and she turned her attention to Neva and Mike, who looked at her with interest. She smiled at them.
    “We’re going to meet in the restaurant about sevenish,” said Diane.
    “It’ll be good to see everyone again,” said Neva. “I feel like I’ve been gone a year.”
    Diane started to respond, but was interrupted when Andie walked through the doorway—followed by Liam Dugal himself.

Chapter 33
    Andie’s face was a still mask, but her eyes were moist and Diane could see she was holding back tears.
    “Liam would like to speak with you,” she said, her chin held high.
    “Very well,” said Diane. She locked gazes with Liam Dugal.
    Neva and Mike exchanged glances.
    “Andie,” said Neva, “we’re going to hang this in Diane’s other office. Why don’t you come help us?”
    Andie nodded and swept out of the room.
    Diane watched her go and turned her gaze back to Liam. He had also watched her leave and was still looking at the closed door. Diane gestured to a chair and he turned and sat down slowly, as if testing for some lethal trap she might have installed in the seat.
    “What kind of detective work were you doing in the woods the night we met?” said Diane.
    He raised his eyebrows. “You recognized me?” he said.
    “I heard your voice this morning and recognized it,” she said.
    “And you looked up my name on the Internet?”
    “I got your fingerprints off the glass you were drinking from,” said Diane. “I didn’t trust that you gave Andie your correct name.” Diane leaned forward, resting her arms on her desk, and glared at him. “You know, Andie is a good, kind, trusting person. Using her to get to . . . to get whatever you are after is small and mean.”
    At least he had the good grace to wince, thought Diane.
    “It wasn’t my intention to use her. That was, uh, a happy accident,” he said.
    “Happy accident? Andie didn’t look very happy just now. Did you confess your duplicity to her?”
    “I was going to, but she guessed it first. Andie’s very smart. I thought I had sufficiently couched my interest in your recent archaeology acquisition as an interest in Indian artifacts. I also thought I had spread out my questions about you so they wouldn’t arouse her suspicion. However, Andie guessed. She apparently has more suspicion and cleverness than either of us credited her with.”
    “Somehow I thought you would be more contrite. You were kind to me in the woods—for which I’m grateful. It led me to expect more self- reproach from you,” she said.
    “Did you really expect better of me, or were you afraid I killed the Barres and the Watsons?” he said.
    “Did you?” asked Diane.
    “No, I did not. I wouldn’t have left such a