And so it had gone for a grueling hour and a half. Finally, believing he had nothing else that he was able or willing to tell her, she released him to do his pacing and haranguing.

She used a phone outside the SVU to place a call to the manager of the Silver Tide Country Club. She woke up his wife, who woke him up after DeeDee identified herself and conveyed the urgency of the call. From him she got phone numbers for the club’s parking valet and bartender who’d been on duty that night.

She called them at their respective residences. Neither was happy to be called at this hour, especially after having worked a long shift. But both confirmed to her that the judge had arrived at the club shortly before ten o’clock and joined a spirited poker game. He hadn’t left until he was notified by police that Mrs. Laird’s car had been found on the narrow shoulder of the Talmadge Bridge with a dead man inside.

“When he was told that there was no sign of her, he freaked,” the bartender told DeeDee.

“I can imagine.” She asked the names of those with whom the judge had been playing cards all evening. It was a star-studded lineup of movers and shakers, including the district attorney.

If indeed it turned out that Elise Laird had met Meyer Napoli for no honest purpose, while the judge was enjoying a night of poker and single-malt scotch, he would have a lot to live down. He would look even more a fool for love than before. Some political enemies, and possibly even loyal supporters, might question whether such a fool should be chief judge of superior court.

The professional repercussions of this situation might account for some of his crankiness.

Gerard reappeared to check on how the judge was holding up, and also to ask DeeDee to notify Napoli ’s secretary of her boss’s demise and see about contacting his next of kin.

Upon hearing the news, the secretary lapsed into hysteria. It surprised DeeDee that Napoli could evoke that much emotion-except perhaps fury or repulsion-from another human being. Once she had calmed down, the secretary explained that Napoli had no relatives that she knew of and agreed to go to the morgue in the morning to identify his body.

She also demanded to know what was being done to track down the “monster” who’d shot him. DeeDee assured her that homicide detectives were on the case to do just that.

The sky was turning gray with approaching dawn and DeeDee was on her third six-pack of Diet Coke when Duncan and Worley trudged in. Worley looked exhausted and glum. Duncan looked like something dug up from Colonial Cemetery next door.

They’d barely cleared the doorway when Laird pounced on them. “Well?”

“Get us some coffee, will ya?”

DeeDee was about to remind Worley that fetching his coffee wasn’t in her job description. But she took a closer look at Duncan ’s haggard face and realized that he needed a pick-me-up, and needed it in a hurry. She went to pour two cups of coffee, but kept her ears tuned to what was being said.

“The GPA and DOT have agreed to give us the outside lane of the bridge for a while longer,” Worley said, referring to the Georgia Port Authority and the Department of Transportation. “They’re not happy about it. It’ll create a bitch of a traffic problem come morning rush hour, but we want that scene for as long as we can have it. Something may show up in daylight that we missed tonight.”

He gratefully took the Styrofoam cup of coffee from DeeDee. Duncan didn’t seem to notice the cup she extended to him until she nudged his shoulder. He looked at her blankly for several seconds, then reached for the coffee.

“Never mind the traffic jam,” Laird said. “What are you doing to locate Elise?” He addressed the question to Duncan.

“The canine unit has all the dogs out. They’re combing both banks of the river and Hutchinson Island.”

“That’s very limited. What about the other islands between here and the ocean?” the judge asked. “Are those being searched?”

No one wanted to tell him that rarely did a person make it as far as the mouth of the river. For all the accident victims and jumpers who had gone off the bridge, DeeDee knew of only one who had survived the fall. Usually a body surfaced within a few days, depending on the time of year and the temperature. It would show up somewhere along River Street or near the Corps of Engineers’ dock on Hutchinson Island, which divided that stretch of the river into two channels.

“We’ll expand the ground search as needed, Judge,” Gerard said diplomatically. “What else, Dunk?”

“An APB was issued with a physical description of Mrs. Laird, so that engages state troopers, this department, the sheriff’s office. The marine patrol is searching every channel of the river. The Coast Guard has already launched one craft,” he said. “It’s cruising the Atlantic coastline, but…”

But, again, rarely did a body make it that far before reappearing, DeeDee thought. If it got that far, it would probably be lost forever.

“Coast Guard will also have search-and-rescue teams in choppers,” Duncan said. “They’re being mobilized as we speak. We’ve had the department’s helicopters airborne almost since you left the bridge and came back here.” The update seemed to have sapped what energy Duncan had left. He paused to sip his coffee.

“I’ve heard that the main switchboard has been lit up with incoming calls,” Gerard said. “People have seen the helicopter searchlights moving along the river, want to know what’s going on.”

“I don’t care who it inconveniences,” Laird said. “Keep those helicopters in the air.”

“Of course.” Gerard looked frazzled and annoyed. The judge’s imperious attitude had worn thin. “I tell you this only because if citizens want answers, you can be sure the media does. Sooner or later we’re going to have to address the reporters who’ve assembled downstairs.”

“We had to fight our way through them when we came in,” Worley said. “Didn’t tell them anything, of course.”

“I’ve fielded a half dozen calls myself that have come into the unit here under the pretense of having information on Mrs. Laird,” Gerard continued. “The press knows it was Meyer Napoli who got popped on the bridge. Reporters also know that Mrs. Laird is somehow involved, but they don’t know how or to what extent. You should be thinking about how you want to handle that, Judge.”

Laird deflated and sat down heavily in the nearest chair. In a matter of seconds, the fight went out of him and he acquired the lost, vulnerable, and defeated bearing of a victim. He slumped forward and stared at the floor.

They gave him those moments. No one said anything. For once, even Worley was sensitive enough to keep his crude mouth shut.

Finally Judge Laird raised his head and looked at Duncan. “Did you find anything? Any clue to her whereabouts?”

“That scrap of fabric.” Duncan cleared his throat and combed his fingers through his hair. By the look of it, that wasn’t the first time it had been thoughtlessly pushed back in that manner. “You, uh, you said you thought it came from a skirt belonging to Mrs. Laird.”

“I don’t think, I know.”

DeeDee said, “We covered that. The skirt was new as of today. A gift from him.”

DeeDee couldn’t imagine why that would make Duncan look so pained, but it did. He actually winced. “We don’t know how it came to be on the carrier,” he said. “Forensics dusted the rungs of the ladder for prints, but with all the workers who’ve gone up and down it…” He let the sentence trail, again seeming to have run out of steam.

“Any trace of the other sandal?”

Duncan shook his head. “No sign of it or of anything else belonging to her. As soon as it’s light, the department’s dive team will…will begin their search.”

The sound that came from the judge was very much like a dry sob.

DeeDee saw Duncan glance at Worley, who had become busy engraving a pattern onto his Styrofoam cup with his fingernail, his way of relinquishing this unpleasant duty to Duncan.