"Well, start believing it. And let's send out for some coffee. Black for both of us. We've got lots of other people to talk about," I said.

"You know what Victor Vallis did for a living?" Squeeks asked.

"Paige's father? I know he was in the diplomatic corps."

"Posted in Egypt, actually. Paige testified about that."

Squeeks gave Chapman a look, again suggesting I should have divined a connection to some kind of international intrigue, rather than a simple break-and-enter.

"And he was also posted in France, Senegal, Hong Kong, Lebanon, and Ghana," I said, ticking off the countries I could remember on my fingers. "Maybe I should have polled the United Nations on what kind of danger that put Paige in."

"You know that he came out of retirement after the Persian Gulf War?"

"Hey, Squeeks," Chapman said, jabbing the shorter man's chest with his finger. "If you're such a frigging fountain of knowledge, why didn't you give blondie a call?"

"'Cause I just found this stuff out while they got Paige Vallis on ice up at the morgue."

"Yeah, well, it's amazing how people start to regurgitate the truth after somebody winds up dead."

"They knew Victor Vallis was an expert on Middle Eastern affairs," Squeeks said. "They paid him to be a CIA consultant, right up to the end. He knew all the players, what caves they were cribbing in, how the money moved around the region."

"Was Paige aware of it?" I asked. "I swear she never mentioned anything about this to me."

"I have no idea whether the old man told her he was still involved."

"This Ibrahim guy get anything from the Vallis house? I mean, was there an accomplice waiting outside?" Mike asked.

"He seemed to be there on his own. Chief says there was nothing much in the place to take, and he must have only got started minutes before the girl came home. Like Alex says, Mr. Vallis died of natural causes, so that didn't seem to be related to the break-in, either."

"Can we talk about the murder, Squeeks?" I asked. "Mike says you wouldn't even answer his questions when you called. Isn't it time we get some of the details?"

Squeekist leaned against the desk and scratched his ear.

"Did you guys find anything at the scene that's got you going in a direction related to what happened at her father's house?"

He shook his head.

"Because I gotta tell you, it seems insane to me to overlook the obvious. She's the only witness against my defendant, Andrew Tripping. Anybody figure out yet where he was when she got killed? He was keenly interested in her Egyptian connections, too. He's also got some kind of Middle Eastern expertise and experience. Supposedly worked there briefly in his CIA days."

"Calm down, Coop. C'mon, Squeeks. Give us what you got. I don't even know when and how she died," Mike said.

Squeekist was reluctant to let us into his investigation, but knew we had information that might ultimately be useful. "This probably happened sometime during last night, going into Saturday morning. In her building."

"You know about her call to Mercer Wallace? You know about the boy?"

Squeeks said he did not, and asked me to explain. "Mercer said she left that message in his office at around ten. And her records might tell us where the kid was calling from."

Mike was making a list of things that needed to get done.

"Forced entry?"

"No. It wasn't actually inside her apartment. Happened on the stairwell from the first floor, going down to the laundry room in the basement."

"Doorman?" Mike asked.

"No. The building doesn't have one," I said. "Just a buzzer and intercom system."

"No security camera?"

"Nope."

"How'd she die?" I asked.

"Strangled. Marks and discoloration on her neck," Squeeks said.

"Manual?"

"No. Some kind of ligature. I'm expecting the ME will tell us it's a piece of rope. Thin, like a laundry cord. There were a few of 'em hanging in the basement."

"Was she down there doing laundry in the middle of the night?" Mike asked.

"No sign of that."

"You think-"

"We've got guys over there now, canvassing the neighbors. Maybe she buzzed in someone she knew, maybe she got followed in from the street, maybe-"

"Maybe it was a random push-in," Mike suggested.

"She couldn't be that coincidentally unlucky," I said.

"So tell me about your case." Squeeks had his notepad out and was ready to get more information from me.

We sat for almost two hours, as I tried to recall everything that Paige Vallis had told me about herself, and everything I could think of that might be important about Andrew Tripping. I had no appetite for the doughnuts and cupcakes that were serving as dinner for the other detectives, but I went through three cups of coffee and let the caffeine get to work on my already jangled nerves.

"Don't forget to tell him about Harry Strait," Mike reminded me.

"Who's he?" Squeeks said, jotting down the name.

"CIA agent. Paige had a relationship with him. Not a very long one. Tried to break up but he didn't take it very well. I don't know whether he was actually stalking her or not."

"What do you mean you don't know?" the detective asked me.

"Look, she never mentioned him to me at all until yesterday. I didn't know he existed until he walked into the courtroom."

"You didn't even ask her about him?" Squeeks was looking me in the eye, shaking his head back and forth.

"How the hell can I ask about someone before I know he exists?"

"Cut her a break, Squeeks. She's a head taller than you and her balls make yours look like marbles."

"She was hiding things from me, that's for sure. Just the usual stuff-at least, that's what I thought. Embarrassment about a relationship, that kind of thing. It was only yesterday morning that she confided in me that this guy Strait had called her the night before to convince her not to testify."

"He threatened her?" Squeeks asked.

"She denied that. Just told me he scared her because he used to be so demanding when they were dating." "Scared her to death" were the exact words Paige had used. "She had promised to tell me more about it, but I wasn't allowed to talk to her after she got off the witness stand. That's why she called Mercer to tell him something about trying to find Dulles, Tripping's son. She wasn't supposed to call me."

"Tell him about the glut of lawyers, Coop."

I let out a sigh. "I suppose you should know about everybody involved. There's a guy called Graham Hoyt," I said, spelling his name for Squeeks. "He's the boy's legal representative. Claims to be very interested in adopting Dulles. Says he and his wife, Jenna Hoyt, have a relationship with the kid, and thinks he'll be the one to win his confidence.

"And he's helping one of my colleagues at the DA's office with an investigation into a deal that the defense attorney for Tripping is caught up in. Robelon. Peter Robelon." I gave him the name of the firm at which he worked. "Hoyt claims Robelon's got his hands dirty in some kind of securities fraud."

"You got more on that?"

"Check with Jack Kliger in the investigations division." I paused. "There are several other lawyers, too. One from the foundling hospital and another from the child welfare bureau. Their names and numbers are in my files."

"And the snitch. Don't forget about the snitch."

"Mike's right," I said. "Seems like it happened so long ago it must have been another trial. I was thinking of using an informant on my case. His name's Bessemer."

"Heard about him," Squeeks said, smiling for the first time since we arrived at the station house. "Guess some guys got flopped for that one. He was in this mess, too?"

"I hadn't met with him yet. He was being brought in to talk to me when he skipped. He had been Tripping's cellmate in Rikers."