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time of the murder?”
    Plow momentarily looked shocked but answered without hesitation. “We had planned a quiet dinner at home, just the two of us. He was supposed to be home at five. I stayed around the house that morning but left a little after noon.”
    â€œWhere did you go?”
    â€œFirst, I went to the Cottonwood Athletic Club where I swam and tanned. My tanning appointment was at one so I would have left there at around one-thirty. After that I dropped by the Wild Oats Market on Ft. Union Boulevard for a few groceries, and then I stopped at the Market Street Grill in Cottonwood where I bought the fresh halibut we were supposed to have for dinner.”
    â€œAnd what time did you arrive home?”
    â€œThree-thirty, maybe three-forty-five.”
    â€œDid you remain at home for the remainder of the day?”
    â€œI never left home after that. I was busy fixing dinner. When Arnie didn’t show, I called the police.”
    â€œWould you happen to have the receipts from the purchases you made at Wild Oats and Market Street?”
    â€œSure do.” He was off the couch and back momentarily with the receipts.
    We thanked him and left. Back at our cars, Kate asked, “Well, what do you think?”
    â€œHe seemed sincere to me. His responses to your questions didn’t sound canned or rehearsed. He’s obviously a very emotional guy—seemed like he was turning those tears on-and-off like a faucet. On balance, I didn’t see any major red flags. You’ve got some leg-work to do to confirm his alibi, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary there either.”
    â€œHe didn’t seem so flaky to me today either. Thanks for coming along and giving me your read on the guy,” said Kate.
    â€œAnytime. Now let’s go have some lunch. I’m starving and you’re buying. Consider that the price for my having to attend that miserable autopsy for you.”
    She laughed. “Where should we go?”
    â€œHow about the Lonestar on Ft. Union?—best fish tacos in town.”
    â€œSee you there.”

Chapter Eleven
    Over grilled halibut fish tacos I gave Kate the low-down on my impending child custody battle with Sara’s mother. She listened attentively until I finished before weighing in. While Kate had developed a fondness for Sara, something nurtured over the past several months of our relationship, I knew that she would bring a level-headed approach to a problem that I was buried in emotionally.
    When I finished venting, she said, “Aunt June must be beside herself over this. Have you spoken to Sara about it yet?”
    â€œAunt June is about as upset as I’ve ever seen her. And no, I haven’t said anything to Sara, but I know I’m going to have to do that soon. I’m worried about how to present it to her. She loves us and she loves her mom. I don’t want her caught in the middle feeling like she has to make a choice between living with me or her mother. I’m so pissed at Nicole right now that I can’t bring myself to call her, but I know we need to talk, and soon.”
    â€œLook, Sam, as far as Nicole goes, get over it. You do need to talk with her and right away. Maybe there’s a chance this can be stopped short of a showdown in court. Everybody involved needs to keep their eye on the ball, and that means looking out for what’s best for Sara.”
    I knew what Kate said was true. “I can hardly bring myself to say anything to Sara. That little girl has gone through a lot over the past couple of years, first the divorce, and then that nightmare at our home last spring.”
    â€œShe’s been through a lot for an eight year old, I’ll give you that. But she’s a smart little girl and I know she’ll bounce back. She just needs some time,” said Kate. She reached into her planner and pulled out one of her business cards. She wrote a name and phone number on the back and handed it