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“Can we come in?” Knight asked.

“Sure,” Tracey said.

In the living room Wines asked, “Do you know why anyone would shoot Mr. Beard?”

“No. Do I need an attorney?” Tracey asked.

“Not unless you think you do,” Knight answered.

Under questioning, Tracey said that she and Celeste had met at St. David’s, in the psychiatric unit, after they’d both attempted suicide. “We had a brief affair,” she told the officers. “It didn’t mean anything to either one of us. Now we’re just friends.”

“When did you last talk to Mrs. Beard?” Wines asked.

“I’m not sure. I guess it was Thursday or Friday.”

As well as listening to Tracey, Wines watched her body language. While she appeared relaxed, her eyes flicked about the room, never resting on his face or Knight’s.

“Do you have a gun?” Knight asked.

“I have a shotgun I use to shoot skeet,” Tracey said. “A .20 gauge.”

“We’d like to see it,” Knight said. “Will you get it for me?”

Tracey hesitated.

“We can go get it, or I’ll wait here while Detective Wines gets a search warrant and we’ll find it ourselves,” Knight said. “Take your pick.”

With that, Tracey led them to a closet in a back bedroom she used as an office. From inside, she pulled the Franchi shotgun in its zippered case and handed it to Wines. The smell of cleaning fluid was so strong he didn’t have to ask if it had been recently cleaned.

“When’s the last time you fired this?” Knight asked.

“I shot skeet Thursday night,” she said.

“Can we take this downtown to ballistics?”

“Sure,” Tracey said.

She felt her chest tighten when he said, “We’d like you to come downtown to our office and make a statement.”

Hours later Tracey had signed a statement at the Travis County Sheriff’s Department headquarters. In it she described meeting Celeste at St. David’s and then Timberlawn, and said again that they’d had a brief affair. Since returning to Austin, she said, they were just friends. “We talked on the telephone some and went shopping a couple of times.” When it came to Steve, Tracey said Celeste told her that she didn’t sleep with him and that they didn’t have a good relationship. “There was no sex in the marriage, and I think that her depression was caused by her relationship with him,” she said. When asked where she’d been at the time of the murder, Tracey said she’d had a few beers, ate pizza, and then went to bed. “I did not shoot Steve Beard, and I do not know who did,” she said.

Wines brought Tracey back to the house on Wilson. As she turned to walk inside, he said, “You’ll be hearing from us again.”

Paul Beard was the first of the older children to hear of their father’s shooting. He called the house Saturday to wish Steve a good trip to Europe. Christopher Doose answered and told him what had happened. Wines got on the telephone and explained what he knew about Steve’s condition.

“Who shot him?” Paul demanded.

“We’re investigating,” Wines said.

“Make sure you take a good look at his wife,” Paul said.

As soon as he hung up the telephone, Paul said to his wife, Kim, “Celeste is behind this. I’d be willing to bet my life on it.”

That afternoon Paul left calls for his brother, Steve, and sister, Becky.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Celeste was making phone calls of her own, one to Steve’s Austin banker, Chuck Fuqua. “Steve’s in the hospital and can’t take care of the bills,” she said. “I want to be put on his bank accounts.”

Fuqua refused, but Celeste insisted. Then Fuqua reminded her that she had $10,000 in traveler’s checks Steve had bought for the trip. “Use those,” he said.

“What happens when those are gone?”

“We’ll work it out,” Fuqua said. “That should carry you over for now.”

When Fuqua wouldn’t release Steve’s money to her, Celeste called C.W. Beard, Steve’s cousin and his Dallas banker. The frantic message on his machine said, “Steve’s been shot, and I need to be put on his bank accounts.”

That afternoon, Celeste, Dawn Madigan, her friend from the lake, and Kristina and Jennifer returned to the house and picked up the Suburban.