Victor Oliver was playing with his three oldest granddaughters in the front yard when Reynolds and Schurman pulled into the driveway.

"Summer, instructed Victor when he saw the two detectives. Take your sisters and go play in the back yard."

With Summer leading the way, the three little girls ran around to the back yard.

"Good morning, Mr. Oliver, greeted Reynolds as he and Schurman got out of the car. We need to speak with Mrs. Romney."

"I told you, said Oliver gruffly. She's to upset to talk to you. Can't you wait until she buries Chaucer"?

Schurman removed two slips of paper from the breast pocket of his jacket and handed them to Oliver.

"Do you know what they are? asked Schurman. They're arrest warrants for you and your daughter for obstruction of justice if you refuse to let us talk to us or she refuses to cooperate. Now where's Mrs. Romney"?

"You two are a real piece of work, said Oliver disgustedly. You can't even give her the privacy to mourn her murdered husband."

"We're the police not the news media, said Reynolds. She has no right to privacy from us during an investigation."

Privately, Schurman and Reynolds sympathized with Victor Oliver, a man who in their minds was only trying to protect his daughter.

They both agreed that in Oliver's shoes, they would do the same thing. Unfortunately, their hands were tied.