BACK IN HER OFFICE, Helen drops into her chair and lays her head on her desk.
“What time is it? Midnight?” she asks.
“Sorry, it’s 3 p.m.”
“Oh, OK,” she says, sitting up. “What day is it?”
“Saturday.”
“Saturday. Good, good, gotcha. So, we’re not married yet, right?”
“No, not yet.”
“Oh, good. I’d hate to miss my own wedding.” She leans back in her office chair and spins around. “God! Tom, this case!”
“You’re at a dead end, aren’t you?” I say grimly.
“Not exactly,” Helen says. “We were able to find out who stole the rifle—Trey. He sold the rifle, he claims, to LW. Trey’s also got some kind of connection to Father Xavier—to the point that he willingly gave him the $1,000 dollars he claims LW gave him for the rifle. We also know that SSM, who it looks like is also LW, was in contact w
