‘Yes, that would be correct.’

‘Good.’ Soma had wanted to use Strout’s testimony to prove that a murder had taken place, but Hardy didn’t think it was going to work. He started hammering at another nail. ‘You’ve also told us about a trauma at the injection site. You said it was consistent with someone injecting Sal with the morphine. Yes?’

‘Correct.’

‘But it’s also consistent with Sal Russo injecting himself, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, that’s true too.’

‘Sal Russo might have jerked as he was injecting himself, mightn’t he?’

‘Objection!’ Soma stood, which Hardy took as a good sign. The trial had barely begun, and already the younger attorney’s placid demeanor was showing signs of turbulence. ‘Speculation, Your Honor.’

This was overruled. Hardy tried to keep his face neutral. Strout said he was correct: Sal might have jerked as he was injecting himself.

Hardy nodded genially and pressed on. ‘Doctor, there’s one last point I’d like you to clarify. Didn’t you tell Mr Soma that Sal Russo had a blood alcohol level of point one oh, and that because of this, he might have become unconscious while the needle was still in his vein, and therefore not have been able to withdraw it?’

‘Yes, that’s what I said.’

‘You said this scenario was consistent with your finding, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But consistent only means it could be true, not that it is true. You can’t rule out other scenarios, can you?’

‘No.’

‘So even with Sal Russo’s elevated blood alcohol, might this just as easily not have happened?’

‘Yes.’

‘In other words, Doctor, just to be perfectly clear about this, there is nothing in your findings or testimony that indicates that Sal Russo did not kill himself. Would that be an accurate statement?’

‘Yes.’

‘This could be a simple suicide, couldn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

Salter was frowning and Hardy liked the look of it. When you get a coroner saying you don’t necessarily even have a crime, an overworked judge might find himself wondering why he was presiding over a murder trial.

Hardy thanked the witness, but before he’d gotten back to his table, Soma was up on redirect. ‘Dr Strout,’ he said, ‘you’re not saying that this was a suicide, are you?’

‘No.’

‘And why was that?’

Strout shrugged, a drop of impatience finally leaking out. ‘There was just no way to tell, one way or the other.’

Hardy went home for dinner, stayed for most of two hours, kissed his little darlings good-night, then headed downtown again, first to the jail to keep Graham company and discuss the day’s events and their ongoing strategy, then back to his office for a more critical postmortem with David Freeman.

When he got back home at eleven-fifteen, he was ready to collapse and not altogether thrilled to find Sarah Evans at his dining-room table, talking with Frannie over coffee cups. ‘If that’s decaf,’ he said, ‘I’ll have some, though I’m philosophically opposed to the idea of it.’

His wife offered a cheek for a kiss.

In the past months Evans had become Sarah. The midnight phone calls gave way to the occasional meeting here at the house. She and Frannie, close to the same age, had interests in common. Sarah was talking about getting married, having babies; Frannie now about joining the police department. Both wanted all this to happen in the future sometime. They’d had some good discussions. Frannie said, ‘Sarah and I have decided that when the kids are gone, I should be a cop. Not a family counselor after all.’

Hardy pulled up a chair. ‘Good idea, I mean it. Fast times, great benefits. A really swell clientele. You’d enjoy it. But do you want to hear my idea about after the kids are gone?’

‘Okay, what?’

‘You travel the world and go to exotic ports with your retired husband and be his love slave.’

Frannie put a hand over his. ‘The reason I love him,’ she said. ‘It’s that wacky sense of humor.’ Frannie parted his hand. ‘He’s had a long day.’

Mentioning Hardy’s day brought them all back to reality, but especially Sarah. It was why she had come over. As a witness she wasn’t allowed in the courtroom. She’d worked in the field all day and by now was a wreck, needing to know how it had gone. Hardy was honest with her. ‘It’s Soma’s turn. He gets to lay out his case first. Later I show up and slay him.’

Not amused, Sarah sighed. ‘I just don’t feel like I’ve done enough.’

‘You’ve done more on this case than any cop I’ve ever heard of, Sarah.’

‘It still doesn’t feel like enough. If they’ve only got one suspect and that’s Graham, then all Soma’s got to do is make the murder and there’s no other option.’

Hardy knew that this was mostly true, and it wasn’t much comfort to him either. And he didn’t even want to start on his fears about the jury. Putting a good face on it, he kept his tone light. ‘He won’t make the murder.’

‘But, Dismas, it was a murder. You and I both think it was a murder.’

‘You do?’ Frannie suddenly asked.

Uh-oh, Hardy thought. He hadn’t consciously been trying to hide anything from Frannie, but neither had he wanted to burden his wife with all the ins and outs of the case. She had her own life she was handling here on the home front, and much more efficiently, he felt, than he was handling many parts of his.

He had outlined for her the general theory of his defense and told her that he honestly believed that Graham hadn’t done it, but not that someone else had.

One of Frannie’s main complaints about her husband being involved with murder trials was the fact that he would be working with someone who had killed someone on purpose and thus had a slightly better-than-average chance of doing it again, perhaps to his attorney and/or attorney’s family.

Now Hardy shrugged. ‘It could have been. We knew that.’

Frannie played with it for a while, then balled a fist and brought it down on the table. ‘Shit,’ she said. ‘Just shit.’

‘What?’ Sarah asked. ‘Didn’t we know it?’

‘We knew it,’ Hardy assured her. ‘Frannie didn’t.’

Sarah reached a hand over the table. ‘That’s what I’ve been looking for all this time, Fran. Who killed Sal.’

Her flat, stunned gaze went from one of them to the other. She let out a deep breath. ‘I’m going to bed.’ And she was up and out of the room.

Sarah started to rise, to follow her. ‘Let her go,’ Hardy said ‘It’s all right. I’ll talk to her.’

She sat back down, arms crossed. ‘I’m sorry, I thought… I should go.’

‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘I want you to understand that we’ve got an outstanding defense going here. Even David Freeman thinks it’s good, and he’s Mikey as far as I’m concerned. It’s going to work. I believe it will work.’

‘And what if it doesn’t?’

He didn’t answer. There wasn’t an answer.

Sarah had her elbows on the table and blew into her steepled hands. ‘I could just quit my job,’ she said. ‘I could work on it full time.’

Hardy shook his head. ‘You’re better inside.’

‘I’m no good. I haven’t found anything. Sal wasn’t carrying anybody’s money that I can find. Hadn’t for years. Not even a sniff of it. Nobody killed what’s-his-name for his fish business.’

‘Pio,’ Hardy said, hating his damned memory.

‘I should go strong-arm George, Graham’s brother. Shake him down. Find out where he was.’

‘And get fired?’

‘It doesn’t matter. If he did it…’

Hardy reached across the table and touched her elbow. ‘Slow down. Slow down. Take a breath.’ He waited. ‘Listen, this is always the worst, after you’re committed and you don’t know how it’s going to go. You just got to believe you made the right decision, that’s how it’s going to work.’

‘But I can’t just sit here! I can’t!’

‘Graham’s just sitting there.’

This seemed to hit home. She took a breath, let it out heavily. ‘So? What then? I can’t believe we’ve got a righteous suspect with no alibi and nobody’s even-’