He shook his head.

“You should eat something.”

“I should eat. I should get some sleep. I should refocus on other cases. I get it, DeeDee,” he said testily. “God knows you’ve harped on me enough the last several days. Stop mothering me. Get out of here. Go home. Leave me alone.”

She was hurt by his rejection of her help and concern. It also made her angry. “What is it with you these days? Where is this coming from? Tell me, Duncan. Is it about her?” She looked at him with consternation. “It is, isn’t it? She got to you, didn’t she? I mean really got to you. From the very start.”

He planted his elbows on the bar and rested his forehead on the heels of his hands, curling his fingers up into his disheveled hair. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “She got to me from the very start.”

She had sensed this coming from the night of Gary Ray Trotter’s fatal shooting. Or maybe Duncan had been doomed the first time he saw Elise Laird at the awards dinner. Gordie Ballew’s sad fate had been the proverbial last straw, but the judge’s deceitful wife was at the crux of her partner’s misery. Once his path had crossed Elise Laird’s, his slide into this pit seemed inevitable.

“I’ll have a refill,” he said, sliding his glass toward the bartender.

“ Duncan -”

“I asked you nicely to leave me alone.”

“What happened, happened, Duncan. There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

“Wrong. I can get drunk.”

DeeDee threw up her hands. “Okay, fine.” She motioned the bartender to pour him another shot.

She noticed that the press conference had ended. An anchor-woman now appeared to be solemnly summarizing the story. Then the screen returned to Seinfeld. They watched the muted TV for several moments, then he said, “She begged for my help.”

DeeDee looked at him in profile, the flickering light of the television set playing across his careworn features. “Elise Laird?”

“She came to me twice. And twice I refused to help her.”

DeeDee dreaded what she was about to hear, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking for details. “What are you telling me, Duncan? That she came to you in private?”

“First she passed me a note, asking to see me alone. I didn’t respond. Then she surprised me by showing up at my house. Early on that Saturday morning when we later went to the country club. The table on the terrace. White umbrellas.”

“I remember.”

“Early that morning you called my house suggesting we confront the judge about Napoli ’s connection to Trotter. Elise was in my living room when you called.”

She imagined Duncan carrying on a telephone conversation with her while their suspect was within earshot. She must have sounded like a fool, prattling on about the case they were building against Elise Laird while she and Duncan were eyeball to eyeball. DeeDee hated nothing worse than being made to look a fool. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now,” he said shortly.

“You hustled her out of your house before I got there, then played out that little farce on the country club terrace, pretending for the judge and me that…that…”

“That we hadn’t been alone together earlier that day.”

DeeDee had to forcibly tamp down her rising anger. If they quarreled, she might never hear all this, and she needed to hear it. Moreover, Duncan needed to confess it. If he didn’t, it would continue to eat at him and he might never recover. “What happened when she came to your house?”

“What difference does it make now?”

“If it makes no difference, then tell me.”

“We were coming at her like she was a suspect.”

“She was.”

“She had another story.”

“I’m sure she did. Did you believe it?”

His defensiveness slowly ebbed. DeeDee watched the tension in his shoulders relax. Softly he said, “Not a word of it.”

She sat quietly for a moment, considered ordering another Coke, but decided not to because she didn’t want to distract Duncan. “You said she begged for your help twice.”

“The second time, she called my cell phone, left a time and place on my voice mail.”

“Presuming you would meet her.”

“She didn’t have to presume a damn thing. I knew it was wrong not to tell you about it. I knew it was wrong to go and meet her alone. But I went anyway. Oh, I justified it. I talked myself into believing that the call had come from Savich, that he was setting me up. But deep down I think I knew it would be Elise who was waiting for me.”

“Where did this meeting take place?”

He snuffled a bitter laugh. “It wouldn’t have mattered, DeeDee. It could have been anywhere, and I still would have gone. Nothing would have stopped me from going to her. See, I went with the clear understanding that she would try to compromise me. I went hoping she would try.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew what she would use to barter.” He turned his head and looked at her in such a way that she couldn’t mistake his meaning.

She swallowed hard. “I see.”

“She knew what I wanted, so that’s what she offered.”

“And you accepted?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and repeated huskily, “Yeah.”

With a detached part of her mind, DeeDee wondered what it must be like to hold that much sway over another human being, how heady it must feel to have the power to make someone sacrifice his integrity, his life’s work, for a few minutes of sexual gratification.

He drained his glass. “After we…Well. I welched on the bargain. I left her with tears on her face, begging me for help.”

“To do what?”

“Help her out of her mess. The details don’t really matter now. Hours after I walked out on her, Napoli was dead and we were searching for her body.” He plowed his fingers up through his hair again and held his head between his hands. “Christ help me.”

This explained his despair. He had compromised their investigation and violated his personal codes of morality and ethics, and he would never forgive himself for those transgressions.

Years before, while she was still a beat cop, two SPD officers had been accused of sexual misconduct with a female suspect. They had claimed that the woman was the initiator and a willing participant-which turned out to be true. Nevertheless, DeeDee remembered that Duncan was incensed over the officers’ refusal to admit their fallibility and accept blame. In his view, they’d had the choice, as well as the responsibility, to do what was right, no matter how strong the temptation. Now he had made a similar misstep, and to him that would be indefensible.

But flaws and all, Duncan Hatcher was DeeDee’s hero. To see him so reduced by guilt filled her with compassion, not condemnation. That she reserved for Elise Laird, for whom she had the utmost contempt. She’d be damned before she let that conniving woman’s ghost destroy Duncan.

“You made a mistake,” she said gently. “But you’ve acknowledged it. Put it away. It’s over.”

“Not for me, it isn’t. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me when-”

“ Duncan, she was a player!” she exclaimed, loudly enough for the bartender to glance their way. “She knew you were attracted to her and she used that. What better way to protect herself from prosecution than to screw the cop who’s trying to incriminate her?”

“I know that, DeeDee. Goddamn it, don’t you think I know all that? But knowing it doesn’t make me any less culpable. Three people are dead, not even counting poor Trotter, who started all this. Napoli, Gordie Ballew, and Elise. If I had done the right thing, they wouldn’t have died.”

“You don’t know that. No one can know that. One way or another it was bound to end tragically.” She leaned toward him so he had no choice but to look at her. “The lady was poison. You said so yourself when we started investigating this case. You lusted after her body, but that didn’t blind you to her character. I know that for a fact. You trusted her no more than I did.