Free Murder 101 by Faye Kellerman Page A

explain the logic. Detectives always work from the inside out—”
    “Yeah, yeah, it’s always the husband who knocks off the wife.”
    “I wasn’t thinking about guilt although you’re making a good point. I was thinking those closest to the victims of the crime usually know the most. I started with Ken, now I’m interviewing his children.”
    “But there are a zillion people who know about the panels. My father-in-law has two brothers. My husband has cousins. Why start with Ken?”
    “First of all, I’ve got your entire family on my list. I started with Ken because he was my first contact. And he seems to be the leader of the family.” Decker waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, he said, “I’m just going down in order. Your husband is working and you were kind enough to let me talk to you at ten in the morning. So here I am.”
    She threw up her arms. “I’ve got nothing to hide. Ask away.”
    “I’m going to ask some pretty obvious questions, so bear with me. Did you know that the crypt had original Tiffany pieces?”
    “Of course. Everyone in the family knows. And probably a lot of people not in the family. Ken is not the model of discretion. And if you’re looking for someone to grill, I would suggest you talk to Max again. It’s like the one thing he wants that he can’t get hold of. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
    Decker tried to keep his face flat. “Really?” She didn’t answer. He said, “I went online and looked at the Stewart and Harrison gallery inventory. The place has things far more valuable than the windows.” She still didn’t answer. “Does Max have any vices I should know about?”
    “If you call greed a vice, then yes. With Max, it’s always about having more, more, more. And he accuses me of being a spendthrift.”
    “He’s a spendthrift?” No response. “Is he in hock?”
    Melanie blushed. “I wouldn’t know about that. I mean he has all this jewelry but do you think his wife ever gets to wear anything . . . well, maybe she wears it, but she certainly doesn’t own it. I suppose she can borrow it if she wants.” She looked at Decker. “The point is that everything that Max and his family own is in that store. I mean he and my sister-in-law own this tiny, tiny duplex where they couldn’t even entertain a gnat. C’mon already. Just sell a couple of lamps and get something decent. Not something where the kitchen has a view of an air shaft. See what I’m getting at?”
    “Not exactly.” Decker looked up. “Maybe you should explain it to me.”
    “The gallery belongs to Max’s father and his uncle, Joe. Max is nothing more than a glorified salesman. I think it eats at his kishkas.”
    “So he doesn’t own anything in the gallery? Is that what you’re saying?”
    “I don’t know what he owns or what he doesn’t own. All I’m saying is he always wants more.”
    “So you’re thinking that maybe he stole the windows so he could resell them and get some of his own money?”
    “I’m not saying that.”
    “So what are you saying?”
    “I don’t know what I’m saying. You’re twisting my words.”
    “I’m not trying to do that, Melanie. Do you think Max was involved with the theft?”
    She turned bright red. “Not really.” She sat up. “But if he’s telling you that I was involved, he’s crazy.”
    “Why would he think you’re involved?”
    “C’mon, I know what he told you.”
    “What did he tell me?” Decker prompted.
    “Lemme see how I can phrase this so it comes out right.” She stood up and began to pace. “Ken is a great guy, but tight with a buck, a quality that he passed on to my husband. I never ever buy things we can’t afford, but if I can afford it, I don’t see why I shouldn’t buy it. I mean, why do you work a million hours a week and earn all this money if you’re just going to have it molder in stocks and bonds. I realize that it’s Rick’s business, but he does have a family and why should our