But on the other foot, Hardy discovered, the shoe cramped him up.

He suddenly had to get away from what he thought he might be hearing. Walking across the room to its doorway, he stood looking out through the wired glass opening into the hallway of the jail. Finally, he turned. ‘OK, we’ll leave it where you want. But I’ve got to remind you that you brought all this up. I never heard of Ron Beaumont until two minutes ago and you’re in jail because of some subpoena involving you and him. I don’t think a little curiosity is out of the question.’

‘His wife was murdered. He’s a suspect.’

By the door, Hardy stood stock still. ‘And the grand jury decided it had to talk to you about him?’

She shrugged. ‘I was with him – drinking coffee,’ she added quickly, ‘on the morning she died. In public.’

He waited.

‘So they wanted to see if my alibi matched his.’

Hardy was still trying to figure out the logistics. ‘Did you ever talk to the police about this, before today?’

‘No.’

This wasn’t making sense. If Frannie was the alibi of one of the main suspects in a murder case, the police would have interrogated her as a matter of course, if for no other reason than to have her words on the record. He’d have to remember to ask Abe why they hadn’t, if Abe knew. And if it were true.

But first, he was here. ‘OK, so you got the subpoena you didn’t tell me about…’

‘I thought it would be a quick hour in the middle of the morning, Dismas. There was no need to bother you with it.’

Hardy didn’t want to start down that road again. There were lots of facts he wanted to know. When they got home and out of this environment, things would seem different. They’d be able to talk until they got somewhere. Here in the jail, time pressed on them. ‘All right, so I assume you verified Ron’s alibi.’