"Yes, she took it from me, last night. My wallet and my cell phone." Vicki told herself to stay calm. She could ask for a lawyer, but it would signal that she had something to hide, and Bale would fire her again, after he fired her for going to see Mrs. Bristow in the first place. She could represent herself; she knew how the Philly detectives put their cases together and she could anticipate the questions they'd ask. "I'd like to explain what happened, if I may."

"Please do," Detective Melvin answered, with his official smile. Next to him on the couch, the other detective made a note in his steno pad, his dark head bent so his pinkish bald spot showed. He wore glasses and a navy suit, with a skinny striped tie.

"First, I'm an AUSA and I had nothing to do with Arissa Bristow's murder." Vicki met Detective Melvin's eye to show him she wasn't guilty, which turned out to be harder than she'd expected. She didn't kill Mrs. Bristow, but she did feel guilty about the murder, and even she could hear it taint her tone. "I did meet Mrs. Bristow last night and may well have been the last person to see her alive, depending on what the coroner told you about time of death." Vicki waited a minute, but they weren't volunteering any information. "Let me start at the beginning, which is when I left Chief Bale's office yesterday, before noon."

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the front door, and everyone turned.

Dan. "I'll get it." Vicki practically jumped to her feet and ran to the door, opening it onto a blast of frosty air that wasn't completely weather-related. Dan was acting casual despite the fact that he was standing on the front step with two uniformed cops. Of course, they'd want to search.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Dan said, with an ironic smile. Vicki's neighbors across the street, Mrs. Holloway and the three kids, were at their window, gawking at the two squad cars that sat double-parked in front of her house.

"Come in, everybody," Vicki said, as if she were the perfect hostess. The three men trundled into the house, and she closed the door after them, getting her bearings as the cops introduced themselves. She shook their hands, still in cold black gloves. "I'd make coffee for you, officers, but I'm busy being interrogated."

The cops laughed, and Dan quickly masked his surprise at Bale's presence. "Hey, Chief," he said.

Bale merely grunted in response.

Detective Melvin smiled again. "Ms. Allegretti, do you mind if the officers look around?"

Dan's eyes widened. "They're really gonna search your house? For God's sake, why?"

"Go right ahead, officers." Vicki had no choice but to authorize a consent search. She signed the form when they produced it, with Bale watching her every move, leaning back against the wall again, his arms crossed. She turned to Detective Melvin. "They're welcome to look anywhere. The clothes I was wearing last night are in the upstairs bedroom. It's a black suit, and it's probably on the floor. You'll find hair and fibers from Mrs. Bristow's house on my clothes, and vice versa. I can explain all of that."

"Thanks." Detective Melvin nodded in a way that directed the officers out of the room, and Vicki eased onto the couch while the detectives resettled themselves on the other side of the coffee table. A bewildered Dan Malloy remained standing for a moment in his jeans and his black down jacket, then he walked around the coffee table and sat down next to Vicki, who hoped her gratitude didn't show.

"Well, here's what I did yesterday, from noon onward," she began, while the other detective started to take notes. She proceeded to tell them everything, including her call to Dan, but not her call to Morty's answering machine because she was already feeling exposed enough. In the background, the clinking of her pots and pans told her cops were searching her kitchen. Vicki took a deep, final breath. "That's the truth, and the whole truth."

"I see." Detective Melvin looked up from his steno notebook, which he'd pulled out of his back pocket in mid-lecture. His expression seemed relieved and his frown had vanished. They weren't charging her today, anyway. "I do have a few questions. Was there-"

"Wait a minute," Dan interrupted, leaning forward on his knees. "You guys can't really think that Vicki is a suspect in this murder, or, for that matter, in anybody's murder. I mean, this is ridiculous!"

"We have to investigate our leads, sir."

"Get real, detective. The wallet's not a lead." Dan snorted. He'd been a federal prosecutor for so long, he thought the locals were dummies, and it showed. "Who kills someone and leaves their wallet behind with a library card?"

"We didn't say it wasn't strange, sir."

"You know a lot of killers belong to the art museum? Obviously, that crack addict stole Vicki's wallet. I mean, what are you thinking? Vicki's a criminal? She's law enforcement. An AUSA, for God's sake!"

"Dan, let them ask the questions they need to." Vicki worried he was going too far. Behind her, the clinking from the kitchen had stopped and was replaced by the heavy tread of the officers' thick-soled shoes as they climbed the stairs to her second floor.

"But they're stupid questions!" Dan exploded, and Bale waved him into silence, at the same time that Vicki leapt in.

"Please, detective, you were saying."

Detective Melvin resettled. "Ms. Allegretti, how much money was in your wallet?

"About fifty dollars. Also, my credit cards, a driver's license, and an ATM card. And my Justice creds," Vicki added, as if they were an afterthought, but Bale rolled his eyes. Now they would both have to think of a lie.

"Did you report it stolen to the police?"

"No, I didn't think it would matter. I chalked it up to bad luck."

Detective Melvin made a note. "I assume you won't mind us contacting the people you mentioned, including your parents."

Oh, great. "Of course not. Feel free." Vicki recited their addresses and phone numbers, which the detectives wrote down in unison. She would have to call her parents and explain why cops would be calling them, which bothered her almost as much as the officers searching her bedroom. She experienced the completely paranoid fear that they'd plant something incriminating in her house. Then again, she also believed that blow dryers jumped spontaneously into bathtubs.

"Now, you said you visited Arissa Bristow to investigate the murder of the ATF case agent. Did you believe that Reheema or her mother was responsible for this murder?"

"Honestly, I didn't know. That's what I was trying to follow up on." Vicki paused. If they were thinking about possible motives for her to kill Mrs. Bristow, it was a stretch. Did she kill Reheema's mother to get back at Reheema for having the CI killed? Too much. And how would the teenagers have known she and Morty would be at the house? Or was their theory more tenuous, like that Vicki killed Mrs. Bristow as revenge for Reheema having her partner killed? No, motive didn't exist. "But after what I learned, I'm not sure that Reheema was involved in any conspiracy to kill my CI or Morty."

Bale glowered, shifting his weight uneasily from one loafer to another. He didn't want her thinking about stuff like this, much less talking about it, but she couldn't stop now. And she was still curious: "Detective Melvin, the news report said that Mrs. Bristow was found in her home, stabbed to death. What was the estimated time of death?"

"Around seven-thirty last night."

The sentence struck Vicki like a body blow. I should have gone after her. I shouldn't have been scared off by that man in the hood.

"Ms. Allegretti?" the detective asked, and Dan put a comforting hand on her arm.

"Vick. You okay?"

Vicki found her voice. "She was killed right after I left."

"Of course, as you probably know, these things are never exact. It's always give or take a half an hour."