Her heart pounded as she stepped slowly toward the door. "Yes?" she called, praying the deadbolt was as secure as she believed.

"Connie? Open up. It's me-Mrs. Rosinsky."

She recognized her landlady's voice and, relieved, unlocked the door.

Her landlady huddled off to one side, and two uniformed policemen stood in front of her. "Connie Rogers?" one asked, to her surprise.

Surprise immediately turned to fear as thoughts of all the horrible things that could possibly have happened to someone she was close to a.s.sailed her. Her mouth dry, she said, "Yes."

"You have the right to remain silent..."

Chapter 18.

Angie raced along beside Paavo as they entered City Jail, Connie's panic-stricken phone call still playing in her mind. The jail shared a parking lot with the Hall of Justice, whose back door was near the jail's front entrance. "I just hope my father's attorney has already been able to bail Connie out," Angie said, huffing a little as she kept pace with Paavo's long-legged strides. "What in the world is going on?"

"We'll know soon enough." Paavo showed his ID to get past the night guard, then they rode the elevator up to the jails. He quickly located the clerk for the night magistrate.

"She's here," the clerk said, checking his logs. "In fact, if you hurry, you'll catch her in a lineup in 7-C."

"A lineup!" Angie glared at Paavo as if it were his fault. "What are they trying to do to her? Let's get her out of here."

"I'll run down the arresting officer. We'll know more in a while." He'd been in the field with Yosh investigating the murder of twenty-four-year-old Janet Clark, who had worked for Couriers Unlimited, when the message had come in that Angie needed to talk to him immediately. He left Yosh on the scene to help Angie find out exactly why Connie had been arrested. Angie's version from Connie was muddled, to put it mildly.

"I want to see this lineup." Angie whirled on the clerk. "Which way is 7-C?"

He pointed toward the right, down a long hall.

"Angie, why don't you wait here?" Paavo suggested, ushering her toward one of the benches lining the hallway.

"No!" She dug her heels in. "Connie's my friend and I want to know why the police arrested her. It just doesn't make sense."

Paavo led her close to the room where the lineup was being held and found her a seat, explaining that she couldn't go inside. He could, and would let her know all about it.

She didn't like it, but there was nothing she could do.

Paavo had turned to enter 7-C when Robbery Inspector Vic Walters stepped out. He looked at Paavo, and a smug expression crossed his face. "Hey, you Homicide boys are fast. Guess you heard we might have solved your case for you."

That wasn't what Paavo was expecting. "My case? What do you mean?"

"The courier. Hold on a minute." Walters began to make a call on his cell phone.

A sick feeling gripped Paavo at Walters's words. A thought struck him, but it was impossible. "I'm going into the lineup," he said.

"It's ended. Just a sec." Walters quietly said a few words into the phone. As he spoke, they stepped aside as a man in his sixties or so, with a thick gauze bandage on one side of his head, was led out of the lineup room, accompanied by a robbery inspector and a uniformed cop. As soon as the door opened, Angie was on her feet in search of Connie, trying to see around the men leaving the room.

"That old guy isn't Isaac Zakarian, is he?" Paavo asked.

"He sure is."

His impossible idea was beginning to look more probable. "And the lineup was for him to identify the woman who stole his diamonds?"

"You Homicide boys sure are smart," Vic said.

"What makes you think the woman you arrested is the right one?"

Vic pushed back the sides of his jacket and put his hands on his hips, his chest puffed up like a peac.o.c.k's. "Other than the fact that Zakarian made a positive ID right now, you mean? She killed the courier, dressed up in the courier's clothes, and stole half a million worth of diamonds."

"Impossible!" came a furious shout behind them. "Connie's no murderer!"

They spun around as Angie stormed toward them. "She's no thief, either! Anyone with half a brain can see that! What's wrong with you?"

Vic raised his eyebrows at the angry woman. "This must be your fiancee," he said. "I've heard a lot about her."

"Yes. Angie, this is Vic Walters, Robbery. Vic, meet Angie." As the two shook hands, Paavo couldn't help but think how incongruous it was to be introducing Angie to a peer as his fiancee, while her best friend was being charged not only with a robbery she didn't commit, but possibly of a murder he was investigating.

"Connie Rogers is my dearest friend," Angie explained to Walters, visibly trying to calm herself. "This has got to be some horrible mistake!"

"I'm sorry." Vic's expression said he'd heard that one before. "But if the lineup confirms our case..."

"Angie's right," Paavo said coldly. "Connie doesn't have it in her to do any of this."

"There's a man involved," Vic said out of one side of his mouth, angling his shoulder to try to cut Angie out of the conversation. "You know how nutso some dames get around a guy. She might be one of them."

"No way!" Angie said, once again proving how sharp her hearing was. "Not my friend." She was so annoyed she was practically hopping.

"Who's the guy?" Paavo asked.

"The jeweler called it. Six-one or-two, a hundred eighty or so, sandy hair, longish, curly, said his eyes seemed 'dark,' but he was too faraway to see their color. His clothes apparently seemed pretty grubby-jeans and an old black overcoat."

Paavo turned to Angie. "Does Connie know anyone like that?"

She paled, and then shook her head. More subdued now, she slid closer to Paavo as if for protection. "Let's talk to Connie, see what she says."

Paavo's eyes narrowed, but he turned back to Vic. "How bad is it?"

"Looks cut and dried to me."

"You know how unreliable eyewitnesses are. Any evidence?"

"We're sending a team over to search her place right now for the diamonds. Half a mil worth."

"You have people going through Connie's things?" Angie shrieked. "And she's not even there to watch them? Paavo, you've got to stop them! What if they break something? Or steal it?"

"Angie, they're cops," Paavo said with a you've-just-gone-too-far warning tone to his voice.

"I don't care who they are! She has rights. Cops can't just go barging into her place and-"

"We got our search warrant approved when Zakarian ID'd her. That was the call I made," Vic explained.

"You did?" Angie quieted down considerably.

"How did you know to search her place?" Paavo asked.

"A phone tip. Anonymous, from a phone booth downtown, next to Union Square. They gave us the apartment to go to, said we'd find the robber, her lover, and the diamonds there. So far, we haven't found the stones or Casanova."

"So you've got nothing but some anonymous call and an old man who probably has a concussion," Paavo said. He didn't need to add what a good defense attorney would do with this.

"He was with the woman," Walters pointed out.

"And also scared to death."

"He doesn't seem like the type who'd say a thing and not mean it."

"You're talking five hundred thousand in diamonds. That can be pretty convincing."

Walters shrugged. "Maybe we've got something else, besides." With a Cheshire cat smile, he walked away.

Angie and Paavo went in search of the lawyer Angie had contacted after receiving Connie's desperate phone call. They found him talking with the Robbery inspectors. When he noticed Angie, his expression mirrored the grimness of Connie's situation.

Luciano Matteo had often worked for Angie's father and had known her from the time she was a little girl. He was a meticulous dresser, even at nearly eleven o'-clock at night, and his suit showed no wrinkles, his shoes were glossy, and his shirt fresh and starched. A fringe of black hair surrounded a bald crown, and he had a narrow Hitleresque mustache. As soon as he finished with the police, he held his arms out to her and they hugged. She introduced him to Paavo. "I'm so sorry this is happening to such a nice young lady as your friend," Matteo said.

"Can you get her out of here?" Angie asked, worried. She read the answer on his face and her stomach sank.

"There will be an arraignment soon, but until then, there's no bail. I'm frankly out of my league here. I do corporate and family law-civil cases-people suing each other, that kind of thing. She needs a good criminal lawyer. I have some people I can recommend."

"This case isn't going to be over quickly, then?" Angie asked.

He shook his head sadly. "Not without a break. Let's go see Connie. She'll be happy you're here."

Angie waited while Matteo and Paavo signed her in with them to the attorney's visiting room. Connie had already been made to change into an oversized prisoner's orange jumpsuit and paper slippers. With no makeup, she looked pale, confused, and frightened. When she saw Angie, she flew into her arms with a sob. Angie's eyes teared up as well.

"I don't understand any of this," Connie said as they hugged. After a moment, she backed away and turned to Mr. Matteo. "Can I go home yet?"

His gaze was gentle. "The jeweler said you robbed him."

Angie was holding her hand, and Connie nearly crushed her fingers at this news. "How can he do that? I was at work!" she searched their faces, bewildered. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Let's all sit down," Matteo said, "and discuss this calmly."

Except for a wooden table and four chairs, the beige-colored room was bare. Wired gla.s.s faced the hallway, allowing the guard to view everything that happened inside.

"Since she's got to spend the night here," Paavo said, "you need to request that she be put in the ASU."

Matteo nodded. "Right. I do know about that, at least."

"ASU?" Angie asked.

"Administrative Segregation Unit. Isolation. It's not great, but it'll keep her away from the general population. It's for her protection."

Connie and Angie both blanched and scooted closer together.

At the lawyer's tacit consent, Paavo asked Connie, "Do you have proof you were working yesterday afternoon between one and three P.M.?"

"Yesterday? Today I had a lot of customers, but yesterday...The store was open. I was in it," Connie said helplessly.

"Did anyone see you there? Any customers who could testify for you, if necessary."

"What about later? Around six o'clock, does that help?"

Paavo shook his head.

She thought a moment. "Anyone walking by could have seen the OPEN sign on the door."

"What about Helen Melinger?" Angie asked. "Did you have the door open? Did you talk to her?"

"Actually, the door was shut. The heating system isn't working well, and I was freezing."

"Connie, how many times have I told you that you need to make your shop inviting for people to walk into?" Angie cried.

Connie looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "And find me sitting there blue with my teeth chattering? I don't think so!"

"Now isn't the time for this," Paavo interrupted. "What about the phone? Did you make any phone calls?"

Connie nervously flexed her fingers. "Between one and three? I doubt it."

"E-mails?" he asked.

"I don't have a computer in the store."

"How can you run a business without a computer to help with inventory?" Angie put her hands to her head in frustration.

"People have been doing inventory for centuries without them, and so do I!" Connie was growing more hysterical with each question she couldn't answer. "Anyway, what good would a computerized inventory do now?"

Angie rolled her eyes. Paavo frowned at her to keep quiet.

"What about this fellow who was supposed to be with you in this?" Mr. Matteo asked.

"Why do they keep asking me about-" Connie abruptly shut her mouth.

"About who?" Paavo asked.

Connie faced Angie, her eyes wide. Angie faintly shook her head. "No one," Connie said.