Voigt changed positions in his chair as if the very name made him itch. "The bastard."

Lonnie said, "Go on with your story, Ken. I didn't mean to interrupt. You might as well give her the background as long as she's here."

It seemed to take a few seconds for him to remember what he'd been saying. "We were married for four years… a second marriage for both. We have a ten-year-old daughter named Shelby who's off at boarding school. She was four when Iz was killed. Anyway, Isabelle and I had been having problems… nothing unusual as far as I knew. She got involved with Barney. She married him a month after our divorce became final. All he wanted was her money. Everybody knew that except poor, dumb Iz. And I don't mean any insult to her when I say that. I loved the woman, truly, but she was gullible as they come. She was bright and she was talented, but she had no sense of self-worth, which made her a sitting duck for anybody with a kind word. You probably know women like that. Emotionally dependent, no self-esteem to speak of. She was an artist, and while I had tremendous admiration for her ability, it was hard to watch her throw her life away…"

I found myself tuning out his analysis of her character. His generalizations about women were obnoxious and he'd evidently told the same story so often his rendering of events was flat and passionless. The drama was not about her anymore, it was the tale of his reaction. My eye wandered over to the pile of fat manila folders on Lonnie's desk. I could see VOIGT/BARNEY written across the spine. Two cardboard boxes stacked against the wall contained additional files, judging by the labels affixed to one side. Everything Voigt was saying was going to be right there, a compilation of facts without all the editorials attached. It seemed weird to me-what he said might be true, but it wasn't necessarily believable. Some folks are like that. The simplest recollection just sounds false in the rendering. He went on for a bit, speaking in closely knit paragraphs that didn't yield the opportunity for interruption. I wondered how often Lonnie had served as his audience. I noticed he'd disconnected, too. While Kenneth Voigt's mouth was moving, Lonnie picked up a pencil and began to turn it end over end, tapping on his legal pad first with the point and then with the eraser. I returned my attention to Ken Voigt.

"How'd the guy get off?" I asked as soon as he paused for breath.

Lonnie jumped in, apparently impatient to get down to the meat of the matter. "Dink Jordan prosecuted. What a yawn that was. Jesus. I mean, the man is competent but he's got no style. He thought he could win on the merits of the case." Lonnie snorted at the absurdity of the assumption. "So now we're suing the shit out of David Barney for wrongful death. I hate the guy. Just hate him. The minute he pled not guilty, I told Ken we should jump on the son of a bitch with hobnail boots. I couldn't talk him into it. We filed and got him served, but then Ken insisted we sit on it."

Voigt frowned uncomfortably. "You were right, Lon. I see it now, but you know how it is. My wife, Francesca, was opposed to our reopening the investigation. It's painful for everyone… me more than most. I simply couldn't handle it."

Lonnie crossed his eyes. He didn't have a lot of sympathy for what people could or couldn't handle. His job was to handle it. Voigt's job was to turn him loose. "Hey, okay. Skip that. It's water under the bridge. It took a year to get him tried and acquitted on the criminal charges. In the meantime, Ken here watches David Barney work his way through Isabelle's money. And believe me, there's plenty of it, most of which would have gone to his daughter, Shelby, if Barney'd been convicted. Finally, the family reaches a point where they can't stand it anymore, so Ken comes back to me and we get into gear. Meanwhile, Barney's attorney, guy named Foss, files a discretionary motion to dismiss for lack of prosecution. I whip into court and tap-dance my tiny heart out. The motion was denied, but the judge made it clear he wasn't happy with me.

"Now, of course, David Barney and this jerk who represents him are using every delay they can think of, and then some. They dicker around and dicker around. We're going through all the discovery, right? The guy's been acquitted in criminal court so what difference does it make what he says at this point? But he's tight-lipped. He's tense. That's because he's guilty as hell. Oh, and here. Check this. Ken here has a guy shows up… turns out he shared a cell with David Barney. This guy's been following the case. He sits in on the trial, just to see what's going on, and he's telling us Barney as good as admitted he killed her as he's walkin' out the courtroom door. The informant's been hard to nail down, which is why I want to get the sucker served first thing."

"What good's it going to do?" I asked. "David Barney can't be tried again on the murder one."

"Exactly. Which is why we kicked it over to the civil side. We've got a much better shot at him there, which he damn well knows. The guy's really dragging his feet, doing everything he can to hinder and obstruct. We file a motion. He's got thirty days to answer so his attorney-what a geek-waits until day twenty-nine and then files a demurrer. Anything to string it out. He's throwing up roadblocks left and right.

"We bring Barney in for a deposition and he pleads the Fifth. So we take him into court and force him to testify. The judge orders the guy to answer because he has no Fifth Amendment rights. There's no danger of prosecution because jeopardy has attached. Back we go on the depo. So now he takes the Fifth again. We take him in on the contempt, but in the meantime we're running up against the court statute-"

"Lonnie?" I said.

"We're humming and humming and it's not working for us. We're coming up to the five-year statute and we really need to make the case happen. We're on the master calendar and we've been given priority, and now Morley drops dead-"

"Looonnnnie," I sang. I raised my hand to get his attention.

He stopped.

"Just tell me what you need and I'll go out and get it for you."

Lonnie laughed and tossed his pencil at me. "This is why I like her. No bullshit," he said to Voigt. He reached over and pushed the stack of, files in my direction. "This is everything we got, though it's a bit disorganized. There's an inventory on top-just make sure it's all in there somewhere before you start work. Once you're familiar with the basics, we can figure out where the gaps are. In the meantime, I want you two to get acquainted. You're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the next month."

Voigt and I smiled politely at Lonnie without looking at one another. He didn't seem to feel any more excited about the prospects than I did.