And if she's a forty-year-old woman who just happens to be flat-chested, I guess we should give him a pass, too."

"Let me fill you in on what happened last night. I'd rather have you hear it all from me."

Battaglia called in from Washington just after one, as I was eating a salad ordered in from Broadway's Best at my desk.

"Guess you can't even stay out of trouble for twenty-four hours, so I can make an appearance in Washington, hmm?"

"Paul, I don't know where to begin on this, I feel like such a fool."

"Forget it, Alex, this one's easy." Great, the Battaglia I adore, understanding my dilemma.

"I'm behind you one hundred percent. Don't worry about his complaint."

Whoops. It was suddenly obvious that we were talking about two different things.

"Hadleigh? How did you hear about that already? I haven't been back from the courtroom for an hour yet."

"He got right off the bench and called Pat McKinney to complain about you. Relax. I still owe him a few jabs for dismissing the indictment in that Asian Gang Unit case last winter. He tried to grandstand on that and it nearly cost us half the forfeiture money we collected to re-present it to the Grand Jury."

"Well, I'm glad that's the way you feel, Paul, but that's not the reason I sent up the alert. I didn't even tell this to Rose, but Chapman and I are pretty sure this guy I've been dating - Jed Segal well, that he was cheating on me, with Isabella Lascar. Chapman's even put him on the suspect list."

Silence. Deafening silence.

"How many people know about this?"

"Not many. And not the press, yet. It's not even confirmed. We should know more this afternoon when we talk to-' "Dammit. It's not "we" you're not to have a hand in this. Can you get that through your stubborn skull yet?

Have the Chief of Detectives give me a call Rose can patch him through to me. And you better do exactly what I pay you to do nothing else. I suppose I have to worry about having you guarded again."

"Oh no, that's ridiculous." I had Jed claiming he was desperate to see me, Richard Burrell showing up unexpectedly in my office, Johnny Garelli due in town any minute now, and I'm arming myself with a bottle opener to answer the door for Mike and Mercer.

"No, I'll be okay."

I hung up and opened the door, picking up my messages as I headed for the Bureau Chiefs' meeting that Rod had scheduled for the afternoon.

Jed had telephoned three times, but Laura had gotten my signal and took no details from him, only the record of the call.

It was going to be more difficult than usual to focus during the meeting, as thirty of the Trial Division administrators sat around a long conference table, arguing over whether too many buy-and-bust cases were being indicted instead of given misdemeanor pleas, or too few defendants were being recommended for alternative sentencing plans.

I scripted imaginary conversations with Jed in my head what I really wanted to hear him say to me, and what I planned to say in response. By the time the meeting ended, none of the major issues we had come together to discuss had been resolved, and the next session was planned for two weeks thereafter.

It was four-fifteen when I returned to my desk with my third diet Coke of the afternoon, hoping the caffeine would kick in and keep me alert.

"Call Chapman at the squad. You just missed him."

"Thanks, Laura." I speed-dialed the number.

"Segal's a no-show. Thought you'd like to know that. Jerk got himself a lawyer who isn't bringing him in today."

Shit. Why would he do that unless he had something to hide?

"Let me guess. Jimmy LaRossa? Marty London?

Jus tin Feldman? He'd only go for one of the top dogs.

Which one?" My luck I'm the one who introduced him to the best lawyers in New York. Now he'll try to use one of them to thwart us.

"Nah. Some guy I never heard of name's Bergin, from Washington."

"Of course. Anderson Warmack's lawyer. Great troubleshooter if you've got a federal securities case. I doubt he could even find the jury box in state court."

"Yeah, well, he knew enough to tell Romeo to stay away from my office.

And he refuses to let Jed submit to a blood test for DNA. Says we don't have probable cause."

"He's been calling here all day, asking me to see him.

I hung up on him once. Laura's not putting him through anymore."

"Good girl. I spoke to Wally. I had Motor Vehicles FedEx Jed's new photo from his New York driver's license up to Ie Chilmark. Told Wally to put it in an array and take it over to the Quinn sisters at the fried clam place, to see if they can make an ID or not. He should get that tomorrow and as have it done. I hate to tell this guy how much probable cause I'm gonna have by the end of the week." the "Don't gloat about it, Mike." be stonewalled. If he didn't do it, why doesn't he just come in and tell me?"

"It's more complicated than that for someone in his position, Mike. You know that."

"Don't defend him, blondie. Look at this objectively, okay? Arm's length."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, got a confirmation from Maine. Burrell's got an arsenal all right. Lots of guns. Likes to shoot those little furry things, mostly. Be nice to him and you could probably have yourself a warm coat for the winter. Like the man said, no one can tell us when he got back to the island. But the Vineyard police are canvassing all the inns and guest houses anyway. We might turn up something there.

"Next thing. That story you told me about Isabella asking Jed for help 'cause she thought her accountant was stealing from her? Well, it's true. I spoke to her agent this morning.

Seems the accountant, Fred Weintraub - a beanie, of course was cooking the books. Iz had reported it to the IRS and I they were gonna open a case on him. I did a run on the guy and he's got two convictions for fraud one here in New York and one in Jersey.

Freddy the Felon. Basically an East Coast guy, so I guess I gotta dig a little deeper on him, too."

"Well, you're having a more productive day than I did.

I'm ready to call it quits."

"You okay for the evening?"

"Fine, thanks. I'm going to get some exercise for a while.

Then dinner with Joan, and home to sleep, for a change."

"There'll be an envelope at your door when you get home. I made a copy of a couple of letters the LAPD found in Isabella's house from this person who claims to be a shrink. Sounds crazier than a bedbug to me.

Maybe they'll mean something to you. Ask your neighbor to look 'em over. Maybe it's shrink talk and he can figure it out."

My backup line was flashing as I got off with Mike. It was Nina.

"Can you talk?"

"I can, but the better question is whether I want to. Nina, I've never been so confused or alone in my life."