Michael’s lips closed harder; he didn’t answer.
“Let’s see, you told us yesterday, that you didn’t come to Millport that day.”
“Yes.”
“Where were you, then, Saturday afternoon?”
Michael scowled. “Just where I told you—on Fishers Haven Beach.”
“How long did you stay there?”
“From a little bit after four till just about seven.”
“Are you in this picture?”
Michael started as the policeman tossed the print across the desk. He picked it up and looked at it. “Yes,” he said, “there on the end.”
“When was this picture taken?”