Jeff was seated at one of the half dozen small round tables lining the wall opposite the espresso bar. I took the bentwood kelly green chair across from him. He repositioned himself so his knee fit between both of mine and I mouthed a thank-you for the comfort he must have known this would provide.

"No coffee, I take it?" he asked.

"No," I said emphatically.

"Can you give me the victim's address so I can get someone on this notification?"

I did, and he wrote this in his notebook.

"She was a widow," I said. "Lived alone. I'm not sure who they'll notify."

"We'll contact the local cops for help. I've never heard of this town. What county are we talking about?"

"Liberty," I said.

Jeff waved over a patrolman, tore off the address I'd given him and said, "Get on this notification. Liberty County address."

"Sure, Sarge," he answered, and left for a more quiet corner of the cafe´ to make the call.

Jeff refocused on me. His short blond hair glittered with rain, and the stubble on his chin looked more copper than golden in this light. He took two sticks of Big Red gum from his rain-dampened shirt, unwrapped them and folded them into his mouth. After he'd chewed a few seconds, he said, "As I mentioned, this looks like assault and robbery. Do you know anything about the victim that would make me see this differently?"

"Not really, considering I only met her once. But I can tell you she was alive two hours ago."

Jeff looked at his watch. "Seven?"

I nodded, and he jotted this down. "I take it you couldn't ID her because her purse was missing." I said this more to myself than to him, feeling calm enough to think logically now. "Where'd you find her phone?"

"In the alley. She must have dropped it."

"You couldn't find out who she was from that?"