asMuti's, and when the chamber orchestra toured Eastern Europe that summerChrista-Marie Schönburg was the talk of the classical- music universe.

    Bythe time she was twenty-two there was no doubt in the minds of thecognoscenti that she would surpass, in technical skill, pure artistry and,indeed, world-wide recognition, the only other woman to capture international fameon the cello, the tragic Jacqueline du Pre, the brilliant cellist whose careerwas cut short at the age of twenty-eight by multiple sclerosis.

    Andwhile Jacqueline du Pre made her most memorable recording with Elgar's CelloConcerto in E Minor, Christa-Marie put her imprimatur on the Bach suites.

    Fornearly a decade, from Vienna's Konzerthaus to Rotterdam's Grote Zaal, from theRoyal Festival Hall in London to Avery Fisher Hall in New York City,Christa-Marie Schönburg, with her tensile, passionate music, brought audiencesto their feet.

    On acold autumn night in 1990 all of that changed.

    Somethingtragic happened on that night when Christa-Marie returned home after atriumphant performance at the Academy of Music - a benefit attended by many ofPhiladelphia's elite society, a fund-raiser for Philadelphia's homelesschildren.

    Althoughdetails of the last two hours remain unknown, it was believed thatChrista-Marie returned to her Chestnut Hill house at approximately 11:45 p.m.,delivered there by a car service. A few hours later, according to herhousekeeper, there were sounds of an argument in the kitchen, a struggle, thena scream. The housekeeper called the police.

    Policearrived at around two-thirty. They found a man named Gabriel Thorne - apsychiatrist who had treated Christa-Marie for many years - sprawled on thekitchen floor, bleeding heavily from wounds to his abdomen and chest, thebloodied knife at his side. He was still alive. They called EMS, who tried tosave him at the scene but failed. He was pronounced dead minutes after theirarrival. The ME's office would eventually rule that Thorne bled out as a resultof multiple stab wounds.

    Christa-MarieSchönburg never played another public concert.

    Becauseshe confessed to the crime there was no show trial, much to the disappointmentof the burgeoning cable-TV court shows. Christa- Marie Schönburg was asenigmatic as she was strikingly beautiful, and her relationship with Thornewas, for many years, cause for gossip and speculation.

    Thelast time Byrne saw Christa-Marie Schönburg was at her allocution, when shestood before a judge and admitted her guilt regarding the murder of Dr. GabrielThorne.

    As Byrnedrove north he thought of the Chestnut Hill house, how when people heard whathad happened they began to gather across the street early the next morning,bringing with them flowers and stuffed animals, even sheet music. It was as ifChrista-Marie had been the victim, not the perpetrator.

    Byrnehad thought of Christa-Marie often. It wasn't just that Christa-Marie Schönburghad been his first case as the lead detective in a homicide. Something elseabout the woman haunted him. What drew him to her had never been entirely clearto him.

    Maybehe would discover what that was today.

Chapter 50

    'I'mfine,' Jessica said.

    Itwas a lie, but she was sticking to it.

    Theparamedic shone his light into her eyes for the third time, took her bloodpressure for the third time, took her pulse for the fifth time.

    Shehad been punched on many occasions in the past - when you box in the ring, itkind of goes with the territory - and this had been a glancing blow, not reallythat hard. But it had caught her off guard. In the ring, you brace yourself forincoming blows, and the adrenalin that flows naturally at a moment like thatworks as a sort of neural shock absorber. No one on Earth can be prepared for asucker punch, which, by definition, comes out of the blue. Her head throbbed alittle but her vision was clear, and her energy level was high. She wanted backin the game but they were going to make her sit there like an invalid. She hadseen it many times in her years on the job, had even been the purveyor of theunwelcome news to victims of assault.

    Justsit there for a moment.

    Notso for Vincent Balzano. When the sector cars showed up, she made the call,found Vincent only a dozen blocks away, working an investigation of his own. Hebroke every speed record getting to the scene. That was the easy part. Calminghim down was another matter. At the moment he was pacing like a caged animal.Unfortunately for Vincent Balzano and his Italian temper, he was lacking aconvenient punching bag. For now, at least.

    Jessica'sweapon had been recovered. It had not been fired.

    AllJessica remembered was hearing other footsteps but she did not know whose theywere. She did not mention the journal, which had not been recovered from the scene

    'Noone said anything?' Westbrook asked.

    Jessicashook her head. It hurt. She stopped doing it. 'No. I heard footstepsapproaching. I got clocked twice. There was a scuffle. Then I faded out.'

    'Whatkind of scuffle?'

    'Notsure. I heard at least two people grunting. Then the ringing in my ears tookover.'

    'Andyou did not see the other person?'

    'No,but I—'

    Jessicasuddenly looked at her watch, sprang to her feet. She felt dizzy for a moment, thenit passed. Her anger did not.

    'Whatis it?' Vincent asked.

    'Wemissed it. We fucking missed it.' 'What?'

    'Theappointment at the Department of Human Services.'

    'Jess.'

    'Don'tJess me.'

    'We'llwork it out,' Vincent said. 'Don't worry.'

    'Don'tworry? This is why they turn you down, Vincent. This is the first big test.You don't show, you don't call, it's over.'

    Vincentheld her close. 'I think you have a pretty good excuse, babe. I think they'llunderstand.'

    'Theywon't,' Jessica said, wiggling loose. 'Plus, they're not going to place Carlosin a home where his mother is in danger every day.'

    'Theyknow we're both cops. They know what we do.'

    Itall came out. The anger of this brutal case. The inability to conceive for twoyears. The indignity of being assaulted. All of it.

    'Youweren't there, Vincent. I was there. I saw how Carlos was living. I sawthe dog shit and the fucking hypodermic needles all over the place. I saw thecockroaches and rats in the sink, the rotting food. I saw him hiding under afucking garbage bag. You don't know what a hell hole it was, how bad hislife was. They are not going to hand him over to us so we can make itworse.'

    Shetried to walk it off. The rage was a breathing thing within her.

    SoonJessica calmed down and let the investigation begin. It was going to be a longday - and it was just getting started.

Chapter 51

    ChestnutHill was an affluent neighborhood in the Northwest section of Philadelphia,originally part of the German Township laid out by Francis Daniel Pastorius.One of the original 'railroad suburbs,' the area contained a wide variety ofnineteenth- and early-twentieth-century residences designed by many of the mostprominent Philadelphia architects.

    Beforeleaving Center City, Byrne had called ahead to schedule a time to meet withChrista-Marie. He was directed to Christa-Marie's attorney, a man namedBenjamin Curtin. Reluctant at first, Curtin arranged to meet Byrne at theestate at one p.m.

    AsByrne turned down St. Andrews Road he saw the house for the second time in hislife. He had not been back since the night of the murder.