Dooher was concentrating on his little toast points, spreading his foie gras with perfect evenness. 'You hit all that.' He took a bite, savoring it. 'You said we couldn't know, that was the problem with being innocent. It could have been your finest moment.'

But Christina was staring at Wes, something else eating at her. She'd never heard him use this tone before, and it worried her. He must still be upset about the kiss.

She knew that Wes had been angry yesterday, but Christina had assumed that his fury would blow itself out. But now she wondered if it went deeper. She reached over and touched his hand. 'I want to tell you something,' she said quietly.

He raised his bloodhound's eyes.

'You're still mad at us and you think we've lied to you, but me going over to Mark's, that was an honest mistake. I would not lie to you. Mark wouldn't lie to you.'

Dooher had stopped chewing, listening intently. And now he eyed Farrell levelly. 'If you've got doubts on that, Wes, I want to hear them.'

Gradually, Farrell shook his head. 'I'm just tired,' he said. 'I'm going to sleep all weekend.'

'What the hell is he doing here?' Mark asked.

Christina and Wes were having coffee and Dooher was enjoying a snifter of Calvados when Abe Glitsky entered the restaurant and made his way over to their table.

Nodding all around, friendly as you please, he leaned over Farrell's shoulder. 'Ms Carrera, I'd like to ask you a few questions before court reconvenes. I wonder if you'd stop by my office on the fourth floor after you've finished your lunch.'

'How'd you know we were here?' Dooher asked.

Glitsky favored him with the scar-split smile. 'Spies,' he said. 'They're everywhere.'

Farrell was torn between the impulse to tell Glitsky to shit in his hat and curiosity over what he wanted to talk about with Christina.

He insisted he be present and Glitsky said no.

He then reminded the Lieutenant that he was entitled to all discovery in the case. This didn't rate an answer.

Glitsky simply asked again if Christina would talk to him or not. She told Farrell she wanted to go, she could take care of herself. It would be best to find out what Glitsky had on his mind.

'What's this about, Sergeant?'

'Actually, it's Lieutenant now. I've been promoted.'

'Oh, that's right, I remember. Congratulations.'

Guarded, but curious, she sat kitty-corner from Glitsky at a scarred oak table in one of the interview rooms adjoining the Homicide detail. He left the door open, and let her have the power position at the far end of the table. He took his mini-recorder from his jacket pocket and sat it on the table in front of them.

'This is Lieutenant Abe Glitsky, star number 1144,' he began, 'and I'm speaking with-'

Christina reached over and grabbed the recorder, flicking it off. 'Wait a minute, what are you doing?'

Life was a constant surprise, Glitsky was thinking. Never before had anyone – hardened criminal or anti-social cretin – ever taken his tape recorder and turned it off. He was sure this should be instructive, but didn't know what it meant. 'I thought you invited me up here to have a discussion.'

'That's correct.'

'So what's this?'

'The tape is how we do interrogations.'

'You're interrogating me?'

'You got it right the first time, Ms Carrera. We're having a discussion, but it's pursuant to my investigation of Mark Dooher.'

'Well, I'm not going to answer! I represent the man, Lieutenant. He's my client. Anything between me and Mark is privileged and you ought to know that.'

'Actually, not. You only became a lawyer a couple of weeks ago, isn't that true?' He knew it was true; he didn't have to wait for her reply. 'And even if a case could be made that you had an attorney-client relationship before that – not saying it could – that relationship certainly didn't exist before Mr Dooher got charged with his wife's murder, and that's the time I want to talk about.'

It rocked her. She sat back in her chair and took a breath, studying him. 'What for?'

'Can I have the tape recorder back?'

'I'm not going to talk to you. Are you accusing me of something?'

'No, ma'am. If we come close to that and you'd like to have your own lawyer present, we can do this some other time, but one way or another, we're going to do it.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'No, we're not. Not now, not ever if I don't choose to. Nobody ever has to talk to the police, Lieutenant – not me, not my client, not anybody. And you know it.'

Glitsky backpedalled. He didn't want to lose her. 'I thought this would be the most pleasant way. You know what the newspapers are saying. I'm the investigator in this case. When questions come up, it's my job to get an answer for them, even if it happened to be in the middle of the trial.'

'You're trying to get me to become a witness against my client.' She was getting angry herself now. 'This is the most unprofessional thing I've ever heard of, Lieutenant, and I really resent it. I met Mark Dooher on Mardi Gras of last year, say ten months ago. There was absolutely nothing between us until after his wife was dead. Does that answer your question?'

'Yes, it does,' he said.

She looked at him for a long moment. 'Lieutenant Glitsky, do you remember when I came up here to talk about Tania Willows and Levon Copes, and you sat in that chair out there,' she pointed through the open doorway, 'and laughed until tears came to your eyes? Do you remember that?'

'Sure.'

'And there was a moment right after that, after your Lieutenant came out and asked if you were okay, when you and I looked at each other and something went "click" -I don't mean sexually – where we just got something together. You remember?'

Glitsky nodded.

'So were we intimate then?'

'That's not the kind of intimacy we're talking about.'

'Well, then, Mark and I were not intimate. Are not intimate. I care about him a great deal. And while we're speaking so frankly, I don't know why you're persecuting him so horribly.'

'The evidence says he killed his wife, Ms Carrera.'

'I don't think it does. That's what you want to see.'

Glitsky held himself in check, his voice flat. 'Because of my abiding hatred of the Church of Rome and my single-handed campaign to bring it to its knees?' He gestured to the empty walls of the room they were in, the external office with all the glamour of a train wreck. 'Or perhaps it's my ambition to rise to the top of this dung heap? You pick. One of the above.'

He had gotten to her. Lowering his voice, Glitsky leaned in toward her. 'I'm trying to figure out why.'

She put her elbows on the table. Their heads were inches apart. 'Lieutenant, there's no why. He didn't do it. That's why you can't find a reason for it.'

'How about you?'

'I've told you. I don't think he did it.'

Glitsky was shaking his head. 'No. How about if you're the reason, if he killed Sheila so he'd be free to have you?'

Her eyes went dull. She seemed to stare through him. Finally: 'You know, I'm sorry, Lieutenant. You must live in the bleakest world there is. You're telling me you've got Mark killing his wife, risking a murder trial and life in prison, all on the remote chance that he'll be free to have me, who has made no commitment to him? You flatter me, but please.'

'It's not impossible.'

'It is impossible,' she said. 'It's insane. The only way that's even remotely feasible is if I…' She stopped. 'If we did it together.'

Glitsky had his arms crossed. He didn't respond except to reach over and turn the tape back on.

After a few seconds, Christina stood up. Leaning over, she turned it off. 'If you want to pursue this further, Lieutenant, next time I'll bring an attorney.'