“I do.”

“Of course you do,” said Breger. “Mr. Forrest is going through an ordeal. His fiancée is dead in their bed, a bullet wound in her chest. Any of us would be in shock. You want him to be able to pull himself together before he speaks to us.”

“How’s tomorrow morning?” said Stone as she handed me her card.

“I think that would be all right. I’ll let you know in the morning if his condition makes it impossible. I was going to take Mr. Forrest to my apartment for the night.”

“Good idea,” said Breger, who had stepped over to a window and was closely examining the sill. “Mr. Forrest looks like he could use a stiff drink or two.”

“He knows not to leave the area,” said Stone.

“I’ll make sure of it. I’ll bring him to you myself tomorrow morning.”

“Along with his new attorney,” said Stone.

Stone smiled at me. I smiled back. This was something completely new. They were playing good-cop, good-cop. I supposed that’s how they did it in the suburbs.

“So now,” I said, “if we could be excused, I’d like to let Mr. Forrest get some sleep.”

“If it is any consolation, Mr. Forrest,” said Breger, looking straight at Guy now, “we are going to do our best to get the bastard who did this. We will put all our resources into digging out the truth and, believe us, dig it out we will. We will not rest until the killer is found and tried and convicted. We will not rest until the killer is rotting away in the penitentiary. I want you to know that, Mr. Forrest, and I hope it gives you some comfort.”

“Yes, well, thank you for that, Detective Breger,” I said. “Now, if we could be excused.”

“Can you just give us a moment, Mr. Carl?” said Stone.

The two detectives stepped out of the dining room. I patted Guy on the shoulder and followed.

“Can you tell us what you know?” said Stone, who was taking the lead in the questioning while Breger examined some paperwork.