A coffee table had National Geographic and TV Guide. Also two books—the latest Robert Ludlum and the King James Bible. Everything was very neat. A portrait of the golden retriever in its younger days hung on the wall. Lots of little porcelain figurines adorned the room. A couple of Rockwell plates too. Hardly a swinging bachelor pad or den of lust.

“I know about your affair with Carol Culver,” Myron said.

Paul Duncan played stiff-lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then let me try to clarify myself. The affair’s been going on for six years. Kathy caught you and Mommy a couple years back. Adam also caught you two on the night he was murdered. Any of this ring a bell?”

His face went ashen. “How …?”

“Carol told me.” Myron sat. He picked up the Bible and flipped through it. “Guess you skipped the part about not coveting your neighbor’s wife, huh, Paul?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What’s not what I think?”

“I love Carol. She loves me.”

“That sounds swell, Paul.”

“Adam treated her awfully. He gambled. He whored. He was cold to his family.”

“So why didn’t Carol divorce him?”

“She couldn’t. We’re both devout Catholics. The Church wouldn’t allow it.”

“The Church prefers marital infidelity?”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Who are you to judge us? You think any of this was easy?”

Myron shrugged. “You didn’t stop. Not even after Kathy saw you.”

“I love Carol.”

“So you say.”

“Adam Culver was my closest friend. He meant a great deal to me. But when it came to his family, he was a bastard. He provided for them materially, but that’s it. Ask Jessica, Myron. She’ll tell you. I’ve always been there. From the time she was a little girl. Who took her to the hospital when she fell off her bike? Me. Who built her swingset? Me. Who drove her down to Duke her freshman year? Me.”

“Did you also dress up as the Easter Bunny?” Myron asked.

He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Correction: I don’t give a shit. There’s a difference. Now let’s go back to the day Kathy caught you two. Tell me what happened.”

His face became irritated. “You know what happened. She walked in on us.”

“Were you naked?”

“What?”

“Were you and Mrs. Culver in the throes of passion?”

“I won’t dignify that with an answer.”

Time to rattle his cage a bit. “What position? Missionary, doggie, what? Were either of you wearing handcuffs or a pig’s mask?”

He moved so he was standing directly over Myron. Everyone thought this was tremendously intimidating, towering over a seated foe. Fact was, Myron could deliver a palm strike to the groin before an ordinary man could even cock his fist.

“Watch it, son,” Paul said.

“How did Kathy react to seeing you two lovebirds?”

“There was no reaction. She ran away.”

“Did either of you follow her?”

“No. Frankly, we were both too shocked.”

“I bet. Did you ever discuss the matter with Kathy?”

Paul stepped away, circled, sat in the chair next to Myron. “She only mentioned it to me once.”

“When?”

“A few months later.”

“What happened?”

He looked away, his eyes darting about, searching for a safe place to land. “This isn’t easy to say.”

Myron nodded, feigned sympathy. “Go on.”

“Kathy made a pass at me.”

“Did you catch it?”

“What?”

“As in ‘catch her pass.’ ”

He flashed the irritated face again. “Of course not.”

“You turned her down?”

“I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“Did she persist?”

“Yes. But I kept ignoring her.”

“Bet you were real excited, though. Mother and daughter. Both good-lookers. Your fantasies must have been in overdrive.”

Irritation turned to rage. He finally took off his reading glasses. Very dramatically. “Last warning, pal.”

“Uh-huh. So now tell me about Fred Nickler.”

Piss him off. Quick subject change. Keep him off balance.

“Who?”

“For a cop,” Myron said, “you’re a lousy liar. Nineteen seventy-eight. You let Nickler plea-bargain a kiddie porn charge. I know all about your connection with him, Paul. What I don’t know is how he fits into all this.”

“He helped me out from time to time. With cases.”

“Including the disappearance of Kathy Culver?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“How?”

“I guess there’s no reason not to tell you.” He coughed into a shaking fist. The golden retriever opened an eye but didn’t move. “Adam found photographs of Kathy in his attic. He brought them to me in the strictest confidence. On the back of one was the name of a photography studio called Forbidden Fruit. I couldn’t find them anywhere. So Adam and I visited Nickler. Nickler told us that Forbidden Fruit was now called Global Globes. He gave me the address.”

“Then you went and bought all the pictures and negatives of Kathy?” A throwaway question. Lucy had already identified Paul Duncan from a photograph.

“Yes. We wanted to protect Kathy’s name. But we also wanted the name of the animal that’d brought Kathy to the studio.”

“Gary Grady.”

“You know about that?”

“I am,” Myron said, “well informed.”

“Well, I checked Grady out completely. He was shady, no question about it. A high school teacher with all those sex lines. He advertised in at least fifty pornographic magazines. I tailed him for a couple of weeks, did a lot of it on my own time. I also had his phone tapped for a while. But in the end we came up with nothing.”

“How did Adam react to that?”

“Not well. Adam was always coming to me with some new angle on Kathy’s case, mostly out of pure desperation. I don’t blame him. She was his youngest daughter. The one child he had a decent relationship with. Adam was willing to do anything to find her. He even wanted to kidnap Grady and torture him until he talked. I told him I’d do anything to help, but that we had to keep within the limits of the law. He didn’t like hearing that.”