"Something like that, " Leona agreed. "It was okay with me. I thought it was fun."

"But to do this, you had to get there on time or maybe a little early."

"That's right! If you got there late, sometimes you had to wait until intermission to sit down, and it wasn't the same."

"What happened on September eighth, 2005?"

"We were rushing around getting ready to go when Dr. Bowman's cell phone rang."

"I presume it was Jordan Stanhope," Tony said.

"It was, and it meant the evening was up in the air because Dr. Bowman decided he had to make a house call."

"Did you stay at the apartment while Dr. Bowman made the house call?"

"No. Dr. Bowman told me to come. He said if it turned out to be a false alarm, we could go directly to the concert from the Stanhopes'. He said the Stanhope house was not that far away from Symphony Hall."

"Meaning it was closer than Newton Memorial Hospital."

"Objection," Randolph said. "Lack of foundation. The witness said nothing about Newton Memorial Hospital."

"Sustained," Judge Davidson said with a tired voice. "Jury will disregard! Proceed."

"Miss Rattner," Tony intoned, licked his lips as he was wont to do. "On the way to the Stanhope residence, did Dr. Bowman say anything to you about his sense of Patience Stanhope's condition? Did he feel the house call he was about to make would be a false alarm?"

"Objection," Randolph said. "Hearsay."

"Sustained," Judge Davidson said with a sigh. "The witness will confine herself to Dr. Bowman's actual comments and not offer an opinion as to his mind-set."

"I repeat," Tony said, "did Dr. Bowman say anything to you about what he thought Patience Stanhope's condition was?"

Leona looked up at the judge. "I'm confused. He's asking, and you're telling me not to answer."

"I'm not telling you not to answer, dear," Judge Davidson said. "I'm telling you not to try to imagine what Dr. Bowman was thinking. He will be able to tell us that himself. Mr. Fasano is asking you what Dr. Bowman specifically said about Patience's condition."

"Okay," Leona said, finally understanding. "He said he was scared that the visit was legit."

"Meaning that Patience Stanhope was legitimately sick."

"Yes."

"Did he say anything about how he felt about patients like Patience Stanhope, the PPs, or problem patients?"

"That night while we were in the car?"

"Yes, that night."

"He said she was a hypochondriac, which he could not stand. He said hypochondriacs were the same to him as malingerers. I remember because I had to look the word up later. It means someone who fakes illness to get something they want. It's pretty bad."

"Looking up malingerer is very commendable. What motivated you?"

"I'm studying to be a medical lab technician or nursing assistant. I've got to know the lingo."

"Did Dr. Bowman ever say anything else to you about his feelings toward Patience Stanhope?"

"Oh, yeah!" Leona said with a fake laugh for emphasis.

"Could you explain to the jury when this occurred?"

"It was on the evening he was served with the lawsuit. We were at Sports Club/LA."

"And what exactly did he say?"

"It's what he didn't say. I mean, he ran off at the mouth like you wouldn't believe."

"Give the jury some sense of what you are talking about."

"Well, it's hard to remember the whole tirade. He said he hated her because she drove everybody crazy, including herself. He said she drove him crazy because all she ever talked about was her BMs and that sometimes she'd save it to show it to him. He also said she drove him crazy because she never did anything he said. He called her a hypochrondriacal, clinging excuse for a wife, and an entitled bitch that demanded he hold her hand and listen to her complaints. He said her passing was a blessing to everybody, including herself."

"Wow!" Tony said, pretending he'd heard the testimony for the first time and was shocked. "So I guess it was your impression that from what Dr. Bowman had said, he was glad Patience Stanhope had died."

"Objection," Randolph said. "Leading."

"Sustained," Judge Davidson said. "Jurors will disregard."

"Tell us what you thought after Dr. Bowman's tirade."

"I thought he was glad she died."

"Hearing such a tirade, as you put it, you must have thought Dr. Bowman was really upset. Did he say anything specific about his being sued, meaning that his performance and decision-making would be reasonably questioned in a court of law?"

"Yes. He said it was an outrage that the oddball bastard Jordan Stanhope was suing him for loss of consortium when he couldn't imagine Mr. Stanhope having sex or wanting to have sex with such a miserable hag."

"Thank you, Miss Rattner," Tony said, collecting his widely spread papers from the lectern's surface. "No more questions."

Once again, Jack glanced over at Alexis. This time, she met his eyes. "Well," she whispered philosophically, "what can Craig expect? He certainly dug his own hole. Leona's testimony was about as bad as I imagined it would be. Let's hope you can come up with something on the autopsy."

"Maybe Randolph can do something on cross. And don't forget Randolph has yet to start the case for the defense."

"I'm not forgetting. I'm just being realistic and putting myself in the place of one of the jurors. It doesn't look good. The testimony is convincingly making Craig sound like a completely different person than he is. He has his faults, but the way he cares about his patients is not one of them."

"I'm afraid you're right," Jack said.

"Let me see the floor plan again," Renaldo said to Manuel. They were sitting in a black Chevrolet Camaro parked on a treelined side street around the corner from the Bowmans's residence. They were dressed in nondescript brown work clothes. On the backseat was a canvas carpetbag similar to those carried by plumbers for tools.

Manuel handed Renaldo the plans. They crinkled as Renaldo unrolled them. Renaldo was sitting behind the steering wheel. He had to fight to get the paper to flatten out enough to look at it.

"Here's the door we're going in," Renaldo said, pointing. "You oriented?"

Manuel leaned over, almost touching Renaldo's shoulder so the top of the page was pointing away from him. He was sitting in the front passenger seat.

"For shit sake," Renaldo complained. "It's not that complicated."

"I'm oriented!" Manuel said.

"What we have to do is locate all three of the girls fast so none of them has a chance to alert the others. You know what I'm saying?"

"Sure."

"So they'll either be here in the family room/kitchen, probably watching TV," Renaldo said, pointing to the area on the plans, "or they will be in their separate bedrooms." He struggled to get to the second page. The plans wanted to roll back up into their original tight cylinder. He ended up tossing the first page into the backseat. "Here are the bedrooms along the back of the house," he said when he got the second page flattened. "And here are the stairs. You got it? We don't want to be searching, and it has to happen fast."

"I understand. But there's three of them and only two of us."

"It's not going to be hard to scare the shit out of them. The only one that might be trouble is the oldest, but if we can't handle this, we're in the wrong business. The plan is to tape them up fast. I mean, really fast. I don't want any screaming. Once we get them taped up with gags, then the fun begins. Okay?"

"Okay," Manuel said. He straightened.

"You have your gun?"

"Of course I have my gun." He pulled a snub-nosed thirty-eight out of his pocket.