Free Murder in the Air by Marilyn Levinson

was good-natured enough to offer a small smile as he settled into the brown leather couch that formed an L with the love seat in which she was sitting.
    “Hello, Ron,” Lydia said. “I wanted to talk to you. About Daniel.”
    “Sure.” Ron leaned back and palmed back what remained of his sparse gray hair. “It’s sad how he died so suddenly just before his wedding.”
    “Yes, it is,” Lydia said.
    “Makes you wonder,” Ron said.
    “Makes you wonder what?” Lydia asked, curious.
    Ron laughed. It was a harsh sound that ended in a smoker’s cough. “If one of his kids knocked him off.”
    Lydia shuddered at the track Ron’s thoughts were following. At the same time, it gave her the opening she needed. “Polly thinks someone murdered Daniel. Last week he received calls that upset him. And he thought a car was following him each time he left Twin Lakes by himself.”
    Ron looked at her in alarm. “Really? Maybe she should notify the police.”
    Lydia nodded, watching his face for any sign of guilt. “She wants the body to be exhumed, but her brother and sister think she’s overreacting to their father’s death.”
    Ron got to his feet. “They would—wouldn’t they?—if they did poor Daniel in.” He called over his shoulder as he walked toward the bar in the far corner, “I think this warrants a drink. Would you like something?”
    “No, thanks.” Lydia watched him pour scotch almost to the top of a highball glass. She waited until he drank deeply and sat down again before she asked, “What was Daniel like when he was a kid?”
    Ron leaned back and smiled. “Danny was the best! An all-around terrific guy. He was a great athlete and absolutely brilliant, in school and out.” He grinned. “The kid came up with more ways for us to get into trouble than our whole group put together. Never serious trouble, mind you. Sometimes we played hooky and rode our bicycles to the beach. One Halloween we painted the water tower.” He chuckled, pleased with himself. “They never caught us for that.”
    “Was Mick Diminio part of your group?”
    “Yep. There were four of us—Danny, Mickey, me, and Billy Evans. Billy moved away, to California. He died about ten years ago. I think Mick went to his funeral.”
    “I suppose you, Mick, and Daniel kept up with one other, seeing that you all ended up living on Long Island.”
    Ron shrugged. “Mick and I did, off and on, but we kind of lost track of Danny until he moved back to Suffolk County. What a surprise that was, him and me ending up here, a stone’s throw from the old neighborhood.”
    “What about Timmy John Desmond?”
    Ron gulped down the rest of his scotch. His hand trembled as he set the glass on the table. “How did you come up with that name?”
    Though her heart was racing, Lydia spoke calmly. “I saw a sketch he’d made of Daniel. He was very talented.”
    “He was a creep!” Ron’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why are you asking me about Timmy John?”
    “I was wondering if you knew what happened to him.”
    “How would I know? I’m tired of your questions. I’d like you to go.”
    Lydia stood, as eager to leave as he was to see the back of her. His vehement reaction meant her assumptions were correct. Ron and the others were involved with the poor boy’s disappearance all those years ago. They must have murdered him! When his remains were discovered, Daniel put two and two together and must have let his old friends know he was on to them.
    And now Daniel was dead. Ron and Mick must have killed him to make sure he remained silent. There was no statute of limitations regarding murder.
    Ridiculous! Lydia shook her head as she followed Ron to the door. Eighty-five-year-old men didn’t go around killing one another.
    Suddenly Ron spun around, making her flinch.
    “I’d forget about Timmy John, if I were you.”
    She forced herself to meet his glare. “The police aren’t fools. They’ll figure things out and come here looking for