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I can sense where you’re going with this, and I just don’t buy it.”

“Good. Tell me where I’m going, and where I’m going wrong.”

She slung an arm over the back of her chair and pointed at me.

“You’re developing this idea of Maria as a kind of Lucrezia Borgia-cum-Machiavelli who manipulates Mick into arranging the killing of Nelson, and then induces him to get drunk and arrested here, and while he’s in the slammer she hires a car, has it waiting somewhere, kills him, leaves him in the car, and makes off with the cash.”

I gave my head a little sideways nod and thought about it. “What’s wrong with it?”

“To start with, her. In all the descriptions we’ve had of her, she’s never been described as manipulative, ruthless, or capable of homicide. She is, or was, sweet and submissive. She was a good girl at home with her mom, she cared for her brother. She was going straight into marriage at age twenty…”

“To somebody of another faith.”

“Minor point. When Nelson said no, she obeyed and married him. When Nelson said go with Mick, she went with Mick. When Mick said come escape with me, she went. The picture I get of this girl is a typical, submissive, obedient Catholic girl.”

“Okay, good point. What else?”

“To organize a successful murder is a difficult and complicated thing. To organize a murder where the body, and a red 1969 Mustang, disappear for ten years is a really complicated thing. You need to know the territory. You need to know the good places to hide the body. You need to know the customs of the people around you—who is likely to find it? How can I avoid them? She’s a kid from the Bronx! What does she know about Texas?”

“Also very good points. Anything else?”

“Yeah, killing a two-hundred-and-forty-pound Irish cop is not easy. How did she do it? How did she get him in the car? How did she dispose of him?” She shook her head a lot. “I can’t see any way that it works, Stone.”

I nodded. “They are all excellent points.”

“You want to hear my theory?”

“Always.”

“I have to tell you it hasn’t changed a whole lot, except now it comes in two parts. First, I think we have to accept that Mick killed Nelson.”

I frowned. “We know he wasn’t there.”

“I mean he was responsible. His idea was to cause confusion and make some extra dough by selling the information about the poker game to the Mob and the Triads. He takes the precaution a week before the hit of sending Kirk off sick. Really what Kirk is doing is preparing the hit with a couple of freelance pros. That explains why the dope wasn’t taken. They’re professionals. They take the dope, and that’s a trail that can lead the cops to their door. They don’t need it, they don’t take it.”

I nodded. “That’s good.”

“Kirk takes the money and Maria to Mick’s house, then beats it to Yonkers, where he leads the quiet life and nobody ever hears from him again. Mick and Maria have a shot of tequila and head for Mexico. As you correctly anticipated, he gets into trouble along the way. Why doesn’t she leave him when he’s in the slammer? Because she is terrified of him. She knows he’ll track her down and beat seven bails of shit out of her. She waits patiently for him to come out, and they drive on to Mexico. Once over the border, he does the same thing again, because that is his nature. They stop at some village where the local boss is the law. Mick starts mouthing off, flashing his car and his money. But this time, instead of getting thrown in the can by the local sheriff, they both get knifed and some Mexican patron gets his money and his car. Pretty Latina girls? They got plenty of them in Mexico.”

“Superb. Nine out of ten.”

“Nine out of ten…?”

“Why did she ask about renting a car?”

She hunched her shoulders and spread her hands like I was being absurd.

“That’s not so hard to explain, Stone! She thought about running back to New York, or somewhere else. Who wouldn’t? But she panicked at the last moment and couldn’t see it through.”

I made a face. “You certainly seem to have covered all the angles. So how do we set about proving it?”

She gave a small humorless laugh, “Ay, there’s the rub…” She watched me watching her a moment, then said, “That’s a quote.”

“And a very appropriate one, because he is wondering what comes after death. We can only speculate what came after their deaths. Because we don’t know. And that’s the recurring theme, isn’t it? A perfect theory, with no evidence. Two murders in which the killings leave us with plenty of theory, but no trail to follow.”

“And you think that’s deliberate.”

“Yup.”

“I just don’t see Maria planning something as cunning and twisted as that… It’s not her.”

I sighed. “I know. You may be right. Give me another day. Let’s see what we find in Armstrong County tomorrow.”

Her eyes lit up in mock excitement.

“Oh, can I come along tomorrow? Sure you don’t want me to question the shopkeepers so then you can tell me what I found out?”

I shook my head. “Been there. Done that.”

“Cute.”

We stepped out of the restaurant, and Dehan stopped to look up at the stars. There was no moon, and it was like looking at a billion tiny shards of ice scattered over a deep, translucent ocean.

“We don’t see that back home, do we, Stone?”

“Nope.”

It was less than a half mile walk back to the inn, and it was a perfect temperature, with a cool breeze coming in off the plains. She walked with her hands in her pockets, watching her boots as they

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