The duplex was still. When they got in, they discovered that Raney had crashed on the sofa in front of the tube. Orel had gone into his room and now slept, fully clothed and open-mouthed, on the top of his bed. Out in the dark living room, Rita snored lightly on her fold-a-bed in the corner behind her Pier One Imports faux-Japanese screen.

They read it again, this time together, at Glitsky's kitchen table, the one light on directly over their heads. When they got to the last line, Treya put a hand over Abe's and squeezed it. She read it aloud. 'It isn't anything to do with you.'

'I know that,' he said. 'My mind knows that.' He let out a long breath. 'Tell me it's too late to call Diz, would you?'

She looked behind him at the clock above the oven -12:20. 'It's too late to call Diz,' she said. 'Do you think the other man, the betrayal of the system she talks about, was Gabe Torrey?'

'Yep. I think she found something at Dash Logan's.'

'Just as Dismas said.'

'Maybe. Parts of it.'

She tapped the letter. 'So what do you want to do with this?'

Glitsky shook his head. It was a serious consideration. 'I don't know.'

'Well, it was addressed to you…'

'I know. If she'd dropped it in a mailbox and it got delivered, it would be my property and I could keep it.' He sighed. 'But she didn't get to do that.'

'So it's got to be evidence?'

'Oh, it's evidence all right. If I was working as a cop right now…' He paused, pushed back his chair, and turned toward her. 'But forget the legalities, Trey. This is personal. I'd really like to know what you think.'

She faced him and said, 'If making it public would correct some of the problems she wrote about, she'd want you to show it.'

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. 'I keep waiting for you to come up with a wrong answer.'

'Raney does, too.' Her tired eyes sparked for an instant. 'You'll have to get in line. So meanwhile, what do we do?'

Glitsky knew the answer to that. 'Diz has got to get it in front of the judge. If she was sleeping with half her clients, if she was leaving the country the next day…'

'Then it need not have been random.'

'No,' he said heavily. 'It never was.'

Abe stared at the floor between his shoes. A shiver went through him and he lifted his face, inches now from hers. 'You know my problem?'

'What's your problem?'

'A lot of times, like with Elaine, I don't say things when I should.'

She reached out and cupped his hands in hers. Met his eyes. Waited.

'But I've got to ask you…'

She brought her mouth to his, her hands to his face. When she pulled away ten seconds later, she whispered to him, 'That would be a yes.'

35

In the minutes before Department 20 convened, the Cadaver's chambers vibrated with anger and accusations. Torrey was on his feet, pacing in front of Hill's desk, the day's issue of the Examiner in his hand as a prop. 'Never in my time as a prosecutor have I ever seen this kind of irresponsible slander. I thought I'd seen defense attorneys pull every outrageous stunt in the books, but this-'

'With friends like Dash Logan, I bet you have,' Hardy interjected mildly. He was standing by the door. Both David Freeman and Sharron Pratt claimed pride of place and sat in the armchairs arranged on the rug in front of Hill. The court reporter – since every word uttered in a capital case is on the record – sat with her machine to the judge's right, tapping away.

Torrey turned on his heel, lashing out. 'I'm not talking about Dash Logan! I'm talking about this libelous-'

'So sue me.' Hardy moved forward, toward the judge. 'Your honor, excuse me, but so what? A reporter wrote a factual story that doesn't bear on this case-'

'A factual story, my ass! There's nothing but-'

'Mr Torrey!' Hill boomed. As with Hardy in chambers the day before, the judge projected a much more powerful persona here in his room than he showed on the bench. Again, he was not yet in his robes, and the business suit added to the aura of power. 'I'm goddamned tired of listening to profanity day in and day out, so we won't have any more of it here, all right.'

'I'm sorry, your honor, but-'

Hill held up a finger, spoke sternly with the volume still up. 'No buts. I'm tired of it. That's the end of it.'

Torrey, no place to go, threw a malevolent glance at Hardy, pulled himself to his full height and stiffly walked over to the one window. Sharron Pratt watched him with sympathy, then shifted in her chair and came back to the judge. Her voice all smooth reason. 'What Gabe's saying has merit, though, your honor. Mr Hardy is named as a source in this column. Surely he could have exercised a little restraint in his dealings with the press while this hearing was going on.'

'How many times do I have to say it?' Hardy leaned against the bookshelves, arms crossed and casual, although it was far from how he felt. 'The article doesn't have anything to do with this case, your honor. I had no idea exactly when Mr Elliot was going to run it. And there isn't a word in it that isn't factual.'

Torrey pounced again. 'That's a lie. I never offered you a deal.'

Hardy was mild. 'The article doesn't say you did.'

'Well, it damn well implies it.' Realizing what he'd done, Torrey faced the judge. 'Sorry, your honor.' Hill waved it off.

'That's how you read it, of course,' Hardy replied. 'If the shoe fits…' A shrug.

'All right, gentlemen, that's enough.' Hill arranged some pens on his blotter. 'Ms Pratt, I've given both you and Mr Torrey more than a reasonable opportunity to vent your displeasure at Mr Hardy. But he's right. This article has nothing to do with the case at hand. And we are here in chambers at his request, not yours. Do you mind if we proceed?' He turned to Hardy. 'And what you have does – presumably – bear here. Is that correct?'

'Yes, your honor, it does.' He leaned over and undid the clasp of his briefcase, then extracted several sheets of paper and held them tantalizingly. 'Last night, Lieutenant Glitsky was reviewing some property of Elaine Wager's that had been brought to my office-'

'My Lord! Your honor!' Torrey exploded again, marching forward. 'What does Mr Hardy think he's doing now? By what right does he gain possession of Ms Wager's property? Lieutenant Glitsky has already been placed on disciplinary leave for interfering in this case and cannot serve any kind of search warrant on her or anybody else. This is completely improper, totally beyond the pale.'

Hardy calmly addressed the judge. 'If Mr Torrey could keep his well-pressed shirt on, your honor. There was no search warrant. We asked Ms Wager's fiance if we could take a look through her condominium. He said yes. Simple as that.'

Torrey grunted with displeasure. 'I don't think so.'

Freeman jumped in. 'Why not, Gabe? Why wouldn't he want to help us find some clue as to who might have killed her?'

'We know who killed her,' Torrey snapped.

'No. I don't think we do,' Freeman replied.

Pratt ignored that exchange and leaned forward. 'I have a question for Mr Hardy. You're the one who brought up Lieutenant Glitsky. Is he working for you on this matter?'

Hardy shrugged. 'As you say, he's on leave. He can do what he wants and it appears he wants to know who killed Elaine Wager. Naturally, anything he finds will be made available to you.'

'We already have a police file on that, Mr Hardy. From Lieutenant Glitsky's own department.'

Hardy shrugged. 'Lieutenant Glitsky thinks the police may have made a mistake and that you've painted yourself into a political corner.' He borrowed one of Freeman's smiles.

'So you contend that Lieutenant Glitsky's involvement here is what? Somehow to protect the police department from its own ineptitudes?'