"Looks like we're done here, for now," he said. "Thanks for your cooperation. You know the drill. Don't leave the jurisdiction."

"You have to be kidding," Dan interjected, but Vicki touched his arm.

"Understood, gentlemen."

Bale was leaving, too, shifting his topcoat higher onto his shoulders and heading for the door. "I have a meeting to go to. Call you later, Vick." He glanced at Dan. "Malloy, put her under lock and key until further notice."

"Yeah, right," Dan said, but he didn't smile. He was watching the uniformed cops search Vicki's books, sliding them out and looking behind each one. She went to the door and opened it to let Bale and the detectives out, but a wet chill blew into the room. It had started snowing lightly, and large, flat flakes floated from the gray sky. The Holloway kids reappeared at their front window, ogling the uniformed cops.

"Thanks for coming," Vicki said, shutting the door, and she and Dan stood uncomfortably aside as the cops searched her living room.

"Almost finished, officers?" Dan asked, though they clearly weren't, and Vicki felt touched by his loyalty. He stood by her side, staring the cops down until they had finished destroying her living room, when she ushered them out the door. It was snowing with flakes too wet to stick, but the Holloway kids were out in heavy coats and mismatched mittens, pinwheeling in the snowflakes and sticking out their tongues stiff as spatulas. Their mother, Jenny, was laughing with them, taking pictures with a disposable camera. The Holloways stopped when the cops filed out of Vicki's front door and climbed into their respective squad cars, banged the doors closed, and started the cruisers' powerful engines, spewing exhaust into the chill air. Vicki waved a don't-worry-it's-just-business, and in the next minute, the kids resumed their spinning, with their mother snapping happily away.

Vicki watched them for a minute, then closed the door.

Hatching a scheme to get rid of her boyfriend.

EIGHTEEN

Snow fell steadily, muffling the world with nature's own insulation and filling Vicki's small kitchen with soft, natural light. It would have been cozy if Dan weren't somebody else's husband and she didn't have murder on her mind. She had to think of a way to kick him out without making him suspicious. "You sure you don't have to get home?" she asked.

"Nah, I want to help you clean up."

"I'll clean later. I have some errands to do."

"I do, too. Let's clean up and do them together." Dan scooped coffee grains into the paper filter with a brown plastic measuring spoon. "First, we need coffee."

Argh.

"It's so ridiculous, them questioning you. I just can't get over it."

"Let it go. They're just doing their jobs."

"Clowns. Jokers. Keystone Kops." Dan put the coffee back in the cabinet, then extracted the glass pitcher from the coffeemaker and filled it up with tap water. He had taken off his coat and was wearing his jeans with a blue crewneck sweater and no shirt underneath, which forced Vicki to imagine him naked. Finally she understood why men found bralessness sexy.

"They're not so bad," she said idly, but Dan turned, incredulous.

"A library card? Exhibit A?"

Vicki couldn't laugh. She still felt bad that Mrs. Bristow was dead, so horribly murdered.

"What's the matter?"

"I feel crappy, is all."

"Why?" Dan poured water into the top of the coffeemaker, put the empty pot in the machine, and switched the black knob to brew.

"Because I was so naïve. Not only to go to Mrs. Bristow's house, but to leave my wallet." Vicki couldn't stop shaking her head. "If I hadn't been so dumb, she would be alive today. I'm screwing up so much lately and it's killing people. Jesus."

"How do you figure that?"

"I gave her the money that bought her the rock that got her killed." Vicki bit her lip. "It's the urban version of the house that Jack built."

Dan snorted. "Gimme a break. You didn't give her the money, she stole it. You didn't buy her drugs, she did. She got herself killed, and you had nothing to do with it."

"I don't know about that." Vicki wished she could agree, but she didn't. Why was everything going so wrong? First Morty and Jackson, now Mrs. Bristow. She rubbed her eyes, feeling sick inside.

"Stop blaming yourself. You're not to blame. By the way, sorry I blew you off last night." Dan turned away and went into the cabinet to retrieve their two go-to mugs, Harvard and Elvis. He set them on the tile counter with a harder-than-usual clink, suddenly preoccupied. The coffee gurgled away, filling the kitchen with the aroma of brewing coffee.

"No problem. I'm sorry I called. I thought Mariella was at work."

"She stopped home."

"That's what I figured." Vicki hated talking about Mariella.

Snow drifted onto her windowsill in wispy cartoon scallops, but it didn't lift her spirits the way it usually did. Looking up from the coffee mugs, Dan noticed it, too.

"When did it start snowing?" "Not long ago." "I didn't realize." Dan kept looking out the window, the reflected light illuminating his handsome features. His blue eyes drooped with morning fatigue, and reddish stubble dotted his chin. He frowned. "Snow is funny. You never know when it starts. It just sneaks up on you and there it is. Before you know it, you're in a snowstorm."

"I guess."

"This is pretty terrible, what's happening here." Dan turned from the window, still frowning, but Vicki wasn't sure what he meant.

"That Mrs. Bristow was killed?" "No. You, on indefinite suspension." Vicki blinked. "At least I'm not fired." Dan didn't say anything. The coffeepot gurgled, and he bent over to make sure it was dripping, without meeting her eye. "Well, I'm not, am I? If I were fired, Bale would have said I was." "With the detectives there?" "Sure, that would make it more fun." "Good point." Dan laughed. "You're right. Bale likes you. I think you're his favorite." Vicki smiled, mystified. "I thought you were." "No. Strauss likes me, Bale likes you." "But Strauss is Daddy and Bale is Mommy, so you win." "It's not a contest," Dan shot back, and Vicki put up her hands. "Whoa, don't shoot." "Sorry, it's not you. I didn't sleep well, last night. We had a fight." "Who?"

"Mariella and me."

Suddenly Dan had Vicki's full attention, especially being braless and all. But she knew she had to act as if she didn't want to hear everything or she'd never get to hear anything. She reached for the coffeepot, interrupting its brewing cycle, and poured coffee into his Elvis mug. She said lightly, "Forget it. Don't worry. This, too, shall pass."

"Not this one." Dan accepted his mug and took a thoughtful sip. "This was a big, big fight."

"It'll pass," Vicki said, though the Malloy/Suarez family never had big fights. In fact, they rarely fought at all. They didn't see each other enough to fight.

"I'm not so sure."

"Sure you are." Vicki poured coffee into her Harvard mug. The day she'd been admitted, her parents had bought three hundred of them. She tried to think of a new subject, which wasn't hard. "How about that guy who answered my cell phone?"

"You'd think the cops would wake up when they heard that. Instead they're in your face. Jerks."

"They'll get to it, in time." Vicki waited and sipped. The coffee tasted good and hot. Snowflakes blew outside. The kitchen fell silent.

"You wouldn't believe what the fight was about," Dan said, after a minute.

"It doesn't matter. The fight's never about the fight, anyway." Vicki knew this from her parents, two major love affairs, and Dr. Phil.

"Mariella thinks we spend too much time together."

"Who?"

"You and me."

"You and me, spend too much time together?" Vicki felt accused and convicted, both at once. His words had broken through some veneer. The fight was about them?