Cozy hesitated before going in. “Yes, I am still seeing the little doctor. Being with her is a constant surprise. Every time-I mean every time-it’s like parachuting in the dark. You never know what the hell you’re going to find. It’s fun, it’s disconcerting.” He stepped in. “Why don’t you show me what you discovered and introduce me to my client’s mother?”

We walked into the narrow foyer, and turned to face the living room. I said, “Cozier Maitlin, this is Brenda Strait. Brenda, Cozier Maitlin, the attorney we discussed.”

I was tired. It hadn’t occurred to me that Cozy would know her from the news, but apparently he watched Channel 7 and he recognized her immediately.

With a hint of rebuke in his voice that was directed at me, he said, “Alan-Dr. Gregory-only told me your first name when he phoned. I didn’t realize who you were, or the extent of the stress you’ve been under already. You are the little girl’s mom as well, aren’t you? The one who is so sick.”

“Yes, I’m Chaney’s mom. Would it have mattered, Mr. Maitlin, had you known who I was?”

“No. But I like to be prepared, Ms. Strait. In every situation. That’s all. I’m terribly sorry for your daughter’s illness and for the problems with the insurance company. And, well, for this new…complication.”

I found it curious that Brenda had calmed so considerably. It appeared she was taking Maitlin’s measure. “Do you have children, Mr. Maitlin?”

“No, I don’t. My ex-wife has twins. I’m very close to them. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“You know, I can’t either,” said Brenda.

Cozy continued, “I would like to look around a little before we talk some more. I hope that’s acceptable. Would you mind terribly telling anyone who might arrive eager to speak with you that I have advised you to speak only with me for the time being?”

“That’s fine, Mr. Maitlin.”

“Well, then, Alan?”

I had been wondering where Sam was. Cozy and I found him upstairs in Merritt’s room, his hands in his pockets, taking in every minute detail of her bedroom.

“Sam,” I said, “Cozy Maitlin’s here.”

He didn’t bother to say hello or turn to face us. He said, “Hold your breath, Counselor. I was invited in.”

“Hello, Sam. No need to be so defensive. What have you found?”

Sam finally faced us. It seemed to take him at least five little steps to turn 180 degrees. He stuck his tongue in his cheek. I couldn’t tell whether he was planning to be cooperative or whether he was planning to be obstreperous. I wouldn’t have taken bets. He said, “Alan told you about the bloody clothes? There they are. Please don’t touch them.” He pointed at the storage case that was open on the floor. “And the weapon is in the bathroom, through there. Ditto about touching.”

In the distance I heard the sounds of vehicles arriving and the muffled thumps of door slams.

Sam did, too. “That’ll be the department.”

“What took so long?”

“Warrant. This case won’t be mine, you know. I wasn’t catching tonight, and with the family complications and everything, this will go to someone else.”

I said, “Of course. Do you know who?”

“No. But we’ll find out soon enough. Depending on how the blood types out, they may just fold this into the Dead Ed investigation.”

I asked, “Did you get a call back on the serial number, Sam?”

Cozy was crouched over the bloody clothes. He raised his head from a serious examination of the contents of the storage box and waited with me to hear Sam’s reply and for an elucidation of Sam’s reference to Dead Ed.

I was certain Cozy already had a few dozen questions of his own. His restraint surprised me.

Downstairs, the front door opened and I heard a voice say, “Police officers,” and Brenda Strait reply, “Come in. I’m Brenda Strait.”

And this is the Strait Edge.

Sam, Cozy, and I were still in Merritt’s bedroom. Sam gazed toward the bathroom for a few seconds, nodded twice, and said, “I have to go bring them up to speed. You two shouldn’t be in here alone, you know? You actually shouldn’t be here at all. My sergeant’s going to string me up for not sealing this room.” He made sure my eyes found his before he took a step.

He wanted me to acknowledge that his message had been received. I nodded.

Cozy stopped him. He said, “Detective?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the referral.”

Sam snorted, “Don’t mention it, Mr. Maitlin. I mean that literally: Don’t mention it. And don’t make me regret I made it.”

Sam was already down the stairs when I said, “Sam was telling me that the serial number is a match, Cozy. The gun belongs to the guy Sam was talking about before-Dead Ed. You read about it? He was shot over the weekend. Edward Robilio. He’s a doctor.”

Cozy responded impatiently, “Yes, yes, I know who he is. But calling Edward Robilio a doctor is like calling Bill Gates a programmer. If this kid-I’m sorry, what’s her name, Merrill?”

“Merritt.”

“If she is involved in that shooting, and it certainly sounds like Sam thinks she is, I need to get someone over to the hospital right away and make sure she doesn’t say anything to anybody. This is quickly going to become complex.”

“Why?”

“Because of Edward Robilio. He founded MedExcel ten, eleven years ago. It’s become a major regional health care provider. Exclude Kaiser, and he’s probably the biggest player in the state in managed health care. He stands to make tens of millions of dollars when his company is sold.”

“I didn’t know he was so prominent. I’d heard he was in the insurance business, but I don’t usually pay attention to such things.”

“Lawyers do.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about Merritt talking, Cozy. Not her, not now.”

“You said she’s recovering, right? If she’s awake, she can talk. She’s awake?”

“Yes, she’s awake. But you don’t have to worry about her talking.”

“Why not?”

“Cozy, just accept you don’t have to worry about it, okay?”

Half-jokingly he asked, “Is she mute?”

I looked away.

He said, “She’s mute? Not talking at all, that kind of mute?”

“I think I can tell you that at least physically, she is able to talk.”

“But she’s not talking? She’s volitionally silent?”

I was as mum as my patient.

Cozy said, “Totally silent?” Then he frowned. “Gosh, what a gift. Finally, the client of my dreams.”

Cozy and I drove across town in my Land Cruiser. He asked questions. I answered or deflected.

He waited in the hall while I walked into Merritt’s hospital room. She was dressed in yellow leggings, white socks, and a T-shirt. This T-shirt said XPLOSION. She had raised the head of the bed past forty-five degrees and was staring at the nine o’clock news on the tube. Channel 2. A pile of newspapers carpeted the sheets near her feet.

I excused the nurse who was providing one-to-one. She seemed thrilled at the chance to get out of the room.

“Merritt, hello. I’m sorry to stop by without calling. May I sit?”

Because it was to my advantage, I took her shrug to mean “yes” and lowered myself into the vinyl-covered chair where the nurse had been sitting. The chair felt too good; I was exhausted.

Before I could speak again, Merritt startled me by standing up.

I had never seen her vertical. I popped back out of the chair as though I were performing in a final exam for a Ph.D. in etiquette. She stood, confused, about three feet away from me. She and I both realized that I was blocking her path.

This would have been a great time for her to talk, maybe say something like, “Get out of my way.” Anything to break the ice. Instead, she pointed at the door that led to her bathroom and I realized that she thought I had stood up to keep her from running.

I blushed and stepped aside so she could pass. She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.