Page 33 of Prohibited

A desire to scream from pure despair and rage filled her so completely that her body shook from hereffort to keep it in.

Think, she had to think.

There had to be a way out of this.

There had to be.

Chapter twelve

Roberts

Whenever Walter Stanley called him, Roberts got a bad feeling in his stomach that was starting to feel ominously like an ulcer.

When he showed up in person without warning, it was even worse.

There Roberts was, minding his own business, pretending to fill out reports at his desk while he did the crossword puzzle, and suddenly Walter Stanley was standing next to him, looking over the crossword with those disconcertingly expressionless eyes.

Roberts started so hard that his hand nearly knocked his coffee cup over. He was desperately trying to regain control of it when Stanley put his finger along Question 6, Down, one of the many that Roberts had skipped over.

“Jabberwocky,” Stanley said.

“Jabbawhat?” Roberts wrinkled his forehead.

“‘He left it dead, and with its head/He went galumphing back,” Stanley said slowly, as if Roberts were too stupid tounderstand. “It’s the Jabberwocky from Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland.”

Roberts looked back down at the crossword puzzle which he had, admittedly, done very badly at. Annoying, sure, but that edge of frustration was part of what pushed him to continue. Now that Stanley was here, showing off how much he knew about children’s books, the fun of it turned to ash in his mouth.

Pursing his lips together, he flipped the book shut and put his elbow on it. “What do you want?”

“We’re going to talk to Linus Colter,” Stanley said.

“You and I?” That ulcer feeling in his stomach intensified.

“Yes.” Stanley stared at him.

“In an official capacity?” Roberts swallowed hard.

“Yes,” Stanley said.

“I’ve already talked to him.” God, Stanley looming over him was so discomfiting and also demeaning. Roberts got to his feet so they were almost eye to eye, though Stanley was taller than he was. “And more than once. I’ve had him in here for questioning for hours. We’ve talked to everyone in their household. No one knows anything. He even has an alibi.”

“What’s the alibi?” Stanley stood there with his blank face, arms at his sides.

“He was with a…” Roberts shuffled through the papers on his desk until he came up with his notepad. He licked his finger and quickly flicked through the pages. “He was with a Miss Amy Shelton.”

“Late night social call, was it?” Stanley said, a slight twist of disgust touching his face. “And you’ve spoken to her.”

“Yes, I have.” Roberts flipped a few more pages. “She says he showed up around midnight, drunk and angry. He and his wife had had a fight, but he said that he left her at home and came to her place to ‘blow off some steam.’”

“I’ll say,” said Stanley. His lip twitched into a ghost of a sneer. “She told you they had a fight. Then Evelyn disappeared. That’s enough for me.”

“Enough for what?” Roberts looked around and then leaned forward with his hands on the desk, lowering his voice. “I can’t help you commit murder while acting in an official capacity, Stanley.”

“I’m not asking you to,” said Stanley. “But we’re going to pay him a visit. Help him reevaluate his testimony.”

Roberts hated being strong armed into anything, but unfortunately he’d tied his own noose with Stanley and there was little sense in resisting him. He gritted his teeth. “Okay. Goddammit. When?”

“Now,” said Stanley.

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