CHAPTER 1

She was perfect—a tall, slim redhead with a mouth that looked likeLeonardo had found a way to improve the Mona Lisa. Green eyes,with maybe a far-off Latin hint, flawless skin. She looked abouttwenty-five or so and wore the casual but elegant tennis outfit that wasalmost a requirement for Roswell housewives. It had a classic new look onher. Diamonds circled her lovely neck. A very expensive emerald tennisbracelet was hard to miss too. All in all, a fine package. You could tellshe was used to being admired, but it didn't seem to affect her. I saw hergive me a quick appraisal and remain unimpressed. She was confident,not arrogant. She moved up to my desk and held out her hand.

"Mr. Novak? My name is Carol Chambers. I called earlier."

I stood and held her hand for as long as I could without seemingobvious. I failed.

"Yes. Please sit down."

She moved easily into a chair. "It was nice of you to see me. RoxanneRoden recommended you. Said you were a discreet detective and ..."She paused, smiling. "And wholesomely aggressive."

Roxanne had been a frequent sexual partner several years ago whenwe started seeing each other; she'd been in between husbands. I bailedher out of a blackmail jam, and she made it worth my while. In a lot ofways. We'd certainly been aggressive with each other; neither one ofus wanted anything wholesome. Whatever else this Chambers womanwas, her friendship with Roxanne meant she ran in rich-bitch circles.Roxie was a very clever woman who used men, drugs, and other women,sometimes simultaneously. I wondered what else she had told CarolChambers about me: that I was a man who shunned commitments likethe plague; an alcoholic; late thirties and looking older; obnoxious abouthis fondness for Bobby Darin? At least I was kind to cats.

"And how is the lovely Roxanne?" I said.

"She's still lovely. Remarried now."

"That's good to hear." I didn't care about her marriage, but it wasconversation. "And what can I do for you, Mrs. Chambers?"

She stared at me for a moment. "I thought my last name might—well,I suppose Chambers isn't all that unique." She took a deep breath. "Doyou recall the news story about my husband Don's death—murder-abouttwo years ago here in Roswell? The body was found on VintageRoad." It was obviously difficult for her to talk about.

I did remember it—very well. Anyone in our area of Atlanta wouldhave. It was a gruesome story and had a big play in the papers and ontelevision for almost six months. Donald Chambers's headless body hadbeen found in the woods off Vintage. He had been there about a week.His body was covered with at least a dozen deep knife wounds. Thefingerprints weren't too far gone for an ID. His wallet and a few hundredbucks were intact, so probably not a robbery. There was speculationabout a drug deal gone wrong, and the police hinted at some deviantsexual involvement that was never explained. He was a wealthy Deltapilot, well known. The whole thing was the talk of the Roswell tennisset for months. And the cops never found his head.

"Yes. I do remember. I'm sorry for your loss."

She nodded. "Thank you. I'm sure you can tell I'm not close to beingover it. It's hard to bring it all back." She was either a great actress orreally feeling it.

"I understand. I'm assuming the police have never found themurderer or we would have read about it."

"That's correct. There's hasn't been a word from them in almost twoyears. Frankly, I don't think they've ever really pursued the case." Herlovely mouth was grim as she touched her diamond necklace.

I wanted a cigarette but was into my third week after quitting coldturkey, and I ignored the craving for a while. I wanted a drink, too,but then again, I always wanted a drink. "I was a Roswell cop for twoyears. There are some good ones and others who are just putting in time,waiting to retire."

"Yes, I guess I had more of the latter."

"Mrs. Chambers, I don't know how I can help you after all thistime. The police may have been slow, but they have access to manymore avenues of research and investigation than I do. I'm sure they'vecovered every lead. How can I help?" I knew this was a cold, dead case,but it was worth watching her while she talked.

"There are things—things I never told the police. Things that mayhelp."

"And why didn't you tell the police?"

"Donald—Don—told me—that is, he asked me ..." She stopped andfolded her hands in her lap and looked up, trying hard to control herself."This is where the discreet part comes in, Mr. Novak."

"Please call me Jack."

Another deep breath. "I met Don about five years ago. He was flyingfor Delta. He was older—thirty years older than I was—divorced, agenuinely nice guy." She looked up, staring directly at me. "I hadn'tmet many men like Don in my life."

"Go on."

"The truth is, I was—I was working for an escort service in Houston.I made good money and really didn't care where my life was going.There were lots of men, drugs, and—other things. I was at a DeltaAirlines party and happened to meet Don." Tears shone in her eyes."The short story is—he changed my life."

"How so?"

She looked past my head, toward the ceiling. "Don accepted me asI was despite my ... background and previous lifestyle. He never askedme anything about myself, but I told him the whole story—everything.He never criticized or tried to change me. He and his son completelyaccepted me into their lives."

I had forgotten a son was involved. "Is his son still—does he stilllive at home?"

"Yes. Hank—Henry—is twenty and in his second year at Georgianow. He still comes home on weekends."

With a stepmother who looked like this, I wondered why heever left for college. "Mrs. Chambers, I have to ask. Was there—isthere—anything ...?"

"You want to know if Hank and I ever had a relationship. Theanswer is no. The police pursued that avenue for several weeks, alongwith other accusations I resented." She sounded bitter.

"It's an obvious angle in a murder case like this, especially whenyour ages are so close."

"I would never have done anything like that to Don—even after hewas ... gone. Besides, Hank and I are just good friends."

I wondered just how good as I admired her body once again. "Mrs.Chambers, exactly what is it you'd be expecting me to do for you?"

"I want you to find my husband's murderer, or murderers. I don'tcare how long it takes." She paused and looked down at her foldedhands. "And there's something else."

I waited, still wanting a cigarette.

"My husband was a B-52 pilot in Vietnam. Flew over two hundredmissions, including the Hanoi bombings. He was very proud of hisservice."

"That's admirable, but I don't see how it—"

"Part of the time he was stationed at a small B-52 base in Thailand,on the Gulf."

"Yes, Utapao. I heard about it from some of the old timers when Iwas in the service."

"That's right. Toward the end of Vietnam, Don and his crew—theywere very close—came into possession of a large number of preciousstones." Again, she reached up to touch the diamonds at her throat."Rubies and sapphires from a remote mine somewhere on the Thaiborder, he said."

That did it. She had me. The way she looked was enough, but theprecious stones angle made her impossible to resist.

"What do you mean by `came into possession,' Mrs. Chambers?"

"Don was reluctant to...