“And a fire-sprinkler system.”
“Still. A bathtub of gasoline.”
“Studied it,” Neems said.
Liddon looked at the manila envelope full of photos and details about the house, which Neems had returned to him.
“You’ll lose the bathroom,” Neems said.
“Obviously.”
“Master bedroom. Some attic.”
“What about water damage?”
“Sprinklers only go off in rooms with heat.”
“Ah. So there’s no widespread water damage. Smoke?”
“I’ll close the bathroom and bedroom doors behind me.”
Neems was as dependable as he was soft-spoken. He thought things through, cared about details.
“I guess the alarm system will get the fire department there in a hurry,” Liddon said.
“Probably under four minutes. They’re nearby.”
Because the apron of the putting green sloped up slightly to the surrounding fairway, the contours of the land pulled faint currents of morning air into the depressed green, where they circled, circled, drawing in a thicker knee-high scrim of fog that moved around Liddon and Neems, a slow-motion whirlpool, around and around.
“You really want Kirsten that much?” Liddon asked.
Neems nodded. “I gotta have her.”
“How long will you … take with her?”
“Two hours. Three.”
“You’re confident about this?”
“Absolutely.”
“It’s kind of wild,” Liddon said.
“So wild, it’s not the way hired killings are done.”
“Good point. Well … okay, then.”
Neems’s smile was so sweet, he would still be good for Christmas pageants. “Two things. First—you sure about Benny?”
Benny was Benjamin Wallace, Liddon’s three-year-old son.
“I’m no better at parenting than marriage,” Liddon said.
“There’s nannies.”
“I’d either end up with some harridan who ruins the mood of the house or some young thing who files a phony civil suit against me for sexual harassment. Is Benny a problem for you?”
“Why would he be a problem? He’s three years old.”
“I didn’t mean a physical problem.”
“I’m fine with it,” Neems said.
“All right. Then it’s set.”
“I just wanted to be sure you were okay with it.”
“It is what it is,” Liddon said. “What’s the second thing?”
“Just my curiosity.”
“I’ve got to get going.”
“You come to me for this—you had to know I did Judy Hardy.”
“Obviously.”
“When did you figure it out?”
