The witness answered in a quiet voice. 'Actually, no, not until I heard of Mr Alsop's arrest a couple of days later. Then I remembered.'

'You remembered that they were friends? That there was a connection between the two young men?'

'Yes.'

'Did you mention this connection to anyone?'

A look of chagrin. 'I'm sure I did. Burgess was a hot case. I remember I was in the coffee room and Mr Torrey was in talking about it, just generally, Ms Pratt's new policy plans. I made some wise-guy crack about all this interconnected drug culture, that we'd just arrested this other kid Alsop again. It just came up.' Hardy glanced up at Hill, said he had no further questions.

It had been an exceptionally long morning, and Hill finally called the lunch recess, and a bailiff came over immediately to get Cole. 'You guys aren't having lunch with me?' He seemed pathetically sad, and Hardy understood why. During trials, he'd usually try to eat lunch in one of the holding cells with his clients, keep them informed of what was happening, try to keep them from freaking out any number of ways. Hardy said he was sorry and promised Cole that it wouldn't happen again.

Cole gave his mother a quick wave over the railing, and then he was marched out. Hardy spent a couple of minutes consoling Jody, then making lunch plans with Jeff and the musketeers. Glitsky and Treya had already gone. Gina Roake was leaning over the bar rail, discussing something with Freeman.

Hardy started gathering his papers, and Freeman pushed out his chair, stood, stretched, and came around the front of the table. 'How'd you get that with Feeney?' he asked. 'It was a thing of beauty.'

'I had a vision.'

'You didn't know?' A rebuke.

'I knew they'd been arrested together. I just couldn't prove that Torrey knew.' Hardy shrugged, nonchalant. 'Easy, David. It worked out. Sometimes you take a risk. It seemed worth it.' He plopped his stuff into his briefcase. Over to his right, he noticed a little conference continuing at the prosecution table.

He lowered his voice. 'You know the other complaint we been talking about?'

This was Freeman's letter to the State Bar Association complaining about Torrey. David, Hardy and Gina had discussed it over the past weekend and decided that they really had nothing. Compelling coincidences, but nothing resembling real evidence. Reluctantly, they'd decided to table the issue until after the Burgess hearing at least.

'Maybe we want to move on that after all.'

Freeman moved in closer. 'Move how? We agreed we don't have anything.'

'Not quite true, David. We've got the bare facts. Torrey's screwing with at least two cases.'

'Maybe, but we can't prove it yet. And we can't prove he's getting anything for it. The bar's going to need… what?'

Hardy was shaking his head. 'Forget the bar. We've got to have Hill see it. He's never going to believe the DA suborned perjury to win this case as long as he thinks Torrey plays by the rules. It's just too big a leap. But if we can convince him that they fudged one piece of evidence, then he's going to have to take a hard look at the rest. We've got to get him to consider what we know.'

'Or think we know.'

'Close enough, yeah. We can't convince the bar, but maybe we can use it here.'

This appealed to David, but he didn't see how it could happen. 'So what are you saying? We're not going to get our two cases introduced here. There's really no relation at all.'

'I'm not suggesting that, and we don't need it anyway. There's other ways Hill might get the message. He might read about it, say, in the papers.' He gestured toward Jeff Elliot, still talking with Gina in the row of seats behind them. 'We've got a guy here who's been known to get the word out.'

Freeman being who he was, Hardy didn't have to draw him a more detailed diagram. David's eyes took on a sparkle with the possibilities. This was his kind of game, playing all the angles, in and out of the courtroom.

'All we've got to do,' Hardy continued, 'is plant the seed. Hill doesn't have to believe it. He's just got to acknowledge it's something Torrey's capable of.'

David still didn't think so. 'Even if he were convinced of it personally,' he said, 'without some kind of proof he's never going to let it affect his ruling.'

'Probably not,' Hardy said. 'But on the other hand, how could it hurt? It's something and otherwise we've got nothing.'

Freeman considered for another moment. 'You put it like that, it kind of grows on you. By the way,' he added, 'I should be happier about it, but I'm afraid you owe me the two hundred.'

Hardy looked up. 'Not till the end of the day.'

'No, I bet not. Torrey's not calling any more witnesses.'

Hardy studied his partner as though he'd lost his mind. 'Of course he is. He's got another twelve names on his list. He hasn't even touched the crime scene.'

'He's got the crime, he's got in his specials. He's got Cole at the scene with Elaine's jewelry and wallet and the murder weapon. Guess what? He's done. He doesn't even need the confession, although he'd be crazy not to use it. And I think you rocked him a little with Feeney. He doesn't want to walk into any more walls.'

Hardy flatly couldn't buy it. 'You want to go double or nothing?'

Freeman, sadly, shook his head. 'Diz, I wouldn't take any pleasure in taking your money. If this were the grand jury, it would be over. I still don't know why he didn't go to the grand jury, in fact.'

A shrug. 'I didn't fight him on timing. He figured it was a toss-up. Either way we were going to trial.'

The old man clucked in disapproval. 'Ah, hubris.'

32

Glitsky chewed on an ice cube, moving his glass of iced tea through the ring of condensation on the table. He was in a booth in the far back at Lou the Greek's, facing away from the entrance, waiting for his appointment. He couldn't shake the thought that it had been unwise to decide to meet here. It was too close to the Hall, to the homicide detail. People he knew would see him. Word would get out.

The window at his ear was half below the level of the street outside. He could look up and see a line of blue sky between the buildings. With the nice weather, Lou had opened the windows a crack to let the place air out, get some fresh oxygen into the mix. All Glitsky could smell was dumpster, though. He lifted his glass, sucked in another cube, chewed some more.

Treya had gone back to Hardy's building. The big box from Elaine's condominium was there in the Solarium and she wanted to catalogue everything in it on the chance that something might jump out. The slim chance.

At this point, Glitsky felt they were all grasping at straws. Hardy and Freeman doing their legal hocus-pocus, Treya making lists, Jeff Elliot wanting to take down the District Attorney. The kids remained enthusiastic, fascinated by the whole procedure. But they were, after all, lawyers. Hardy had them writing more motions about unconsciousness, temporary insanity, police misconduct. They were more interested in the courtroom strategies that might save Cole Burgess than they were in discovering who might have killed Elaine. For Glitsky, this remained the focus. Someone had killed his daughter. He owed it to her – and to himself – to discover who it was.

What had begun as simple remorse over his own excesses had ripened into a genuine concern that a combination of malice and stupidity might possibly have ensnared the wrong man. And if it had, it was up to him – he was the only trained investigator on Hardy's dream team – to run down the right one.

Try as he might, he couldn't develop any warmth for the idea that it had been Jonas Walsh. The doctor had no alibi, true. He'd fibbed about the state of his relationship with Elaine. He was abrupt, distracted, uncooperative. In short, Glitsky had come to believe, he was in a state of grief, something with which he himself had a visceral connection. He recognized it intuitively, and while he would change his mind in an instant if any evidence came to light linking Jonas Walsh with Sunday night in San Francisco, he really didn't expect that to happen.