“To set him up for murder,” Jack suggests.

Naomi nods to herself, tapping her pen, wheels turning. “Okay, fine, that’s our theory of the moment, in deference to your relationship with the suspect-but he remains a prime suspect unless or until the evidence leads us elsewhere.”

“He didn’t do it.”

“You’re a friend. I need more.”

“Fine,” Jack says, with a steely edge to his voice.

“Now please explain the discrepancy,” she suggests.

“What discrepancy?” Jack says, all innocence.

“You rendezvous with your buddy Randall Shane at 7:00 a.m. and yet you don’t show up here until 8:30 a.m. Kendall Square is at most fifteen minutes from this location. Where did you go? What did you do?”

Jack sighs. “We attempted to break into a motel.”

“A motel located where?”

“The Residence Inn off Kendall Square. Shane thought it likely that he’d been lured to the victim’s home so that evidence could be planted in his room.”

“That’s his theory.”

“Yes.”

Silence. Everybody fidgets, including Jack. Uncomfortable moments accumulate. Finally I stick my oar in and go, “Um, attempted to break in?”

“I know,” Jack says with a sigh. “Embarrassing. Two former special agents, and we couldn’t manage to break into a motel room. We had the key card, so it wasn’t even a break-in, technically. My only excuse, the place was being staked out by state police detectives, and they happened to be good.”

“They must have been very good,” Naomi suggests.

“More stubborn than good, but still. The plan was, Shane creates a diversion, I slip into his room and check it out for planted evidence.”

“What kind of diversion?”

“An exploding vehicle just around the corner from the motel. Specifically a small GMC pickup truck with a full tank of gas.”