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“Yes, it’s all about the alibi, isn’t it, Max?”

“It often comes down to that,” I agreed.

“Unless Bill Bouillabaisse is her accomplice,” said my friend as he thought things through to their logical conclusion, as a good detective is wont to do.

“I don’t think Bill’s name is Bouillabaisse,” I said. “Bouillabaisse is just his signature dish.”

But my friend was too deep in thought to listen to this minor addendum.“She could be having an affair with Mr. Bouillabaisse, of course, and he could be one of those men that are putty in a femme fatale’s hands.”

“Yoko didn’t exactly strike me as a femme fatale,” I said. “More like a sweet-nurtured young woman with ambition and pluck.”

“She could be a femme fatale. Femme fatales have a way of concealing their femme fataleness. She could have harbored a deeper grudge against Neda than she admitted, and could have enlisted her demon lover’s assistance to do away with her rival. And now that Neda is gone, she’ll take over the choir and she’ll be its new and undisputed leader.”

“But…”

“And if anyone else dares to oppose her, she’ll deal with them as well,” he concluded.

“Now really, Dooley,” I said. “That all seems very—”

“Far-fetched? Not at all. In Friday’s episode of General Hospital Doctor Adolf murdered a patient in cold blood, with the willing assistance of his lover, Nurse Braun. In fact Doctor Adolf handled the lethal syringe while she looked on appreciatively. You see, the patient was Nurse Braun’s rival, being in pole position for the position of head nurse. So she had to die, and now the road is clear for Nurse Braun to ascend the throne and become the hospital’s undisputed head nurse.” He nodded wisely. “There’s a lot to be learned from General Hospital, Max. It holds up a mirror to humanity, showing us what makes these humans tick. Any student of crime should follow its storylines closely.”

“I really don’t think your Nurse Braun and Yoko Bricknell’s situation are comparable,” I protested.

“Just you wait and see, Max,” said my friend, the soap opera fan. “Nurse Braun still hasn’t been caught, and I doubt she ever will. And the same probably goes for Yoko.” He cast a critical look at the restaurant, where both Yoko and Bill now stood watching us.

“See? They’re watching us, talking about the murder,” said Dooley.

“I’m sure they’re simply talking about what happened to Neda.”

“Exactly,” said Dooley. “And about who their next victim will be. Mark my words,” he said as we walked on, “Neda isn’t the first victim of these Bonnie and Clyde wannabes.”

“I thought it was Nurse Braun and Doctor Adolf?” I said with a smile.

He gave me a keen look.“Do you know what Nurse Braun’s first name is?”

“Um, no,” I had to admit. I’m not keen on watching soap operas myself.

“Bonnie,” he said, and gave me a meaningful nod. “And Doctor Adolf’s is Clyde.”

“Bonnie Braun and Clyde Adolf?”

“Exactly. I rest my case, Max.”

11

While Dooley was still ruminating on the repercussions of his stunning discovery, Odelia and Chase had walked the short distance from the restaurant to St. John’s Church, where Father Reilly holds forth on a regular basis.

The aged priest is a dear friend of Gran, and also a member of one of the two neighborhood watches Hampton Cove is proud to look to for its protection. When we arrived we found him pottering about in the church, making sure he had all his ducks in a row, though in his case those ducks had taken the shape of the chairs his parishioners liked to lower themselves on to hear him spread the word of their Lord and Savior.

He welcomed us with open arms, but since there were a couple of parishioners in church, lighting candles or sitting in the pews with bowed head, he felt it more prudent to take the conversation to the sacristy, next to which he has his office.

It was a small room located behind the sacristy, and when we arrived there, I could tell that Father Reilly, if he’d had an affair with Neda, had merely gone through the motions, for his private space clearly needed a woman’s touch, as it now looked very much the epitome of a bachelor’s pad. His desk was buried under a mountain of documents, and there was no air there.

“Why don’t we open a window first?” Odelia suggested the moment we entered and she wrinkled her nose.

She proceeded to put her money where her mouth was and opened a window while Father Reilly took a seat behind his desk and looked out at his visitors across the mountain of paper.

So Odelia did what any sensible person would do in those circumstances: she began to move those mountains to the floor, to make some space.

Father Reilly muttered a few token protestations but finally gave up and watched with stunned surprise at the speed with which Odelia created order in the chaos of his small office.“Pity you already have a job,” he finally said. “Otherwise I’d hire you as my personal assistant. You’re obviously very good at this.”