I bolted through the doors of the courthouse. The Roundhouse was only blocks away and traffic wouldn't be an issue. Azzic would fly here. I checked my watch: 9:30. I figured I had ten minutes to pull this off, at the most. I rushed into the lobby.

Deliverymen pushed dollies across the polished floor. Lawyers conspired with their clients before trial. Federal employees moseyed by on their way to work. There were no cops in sight, only a few blue-jacketed court security officers talking among themselves near the elevators. I kept my head down and joined the line at the metal detector. It was longer than I expected. My stomach tensed. I glanced at the time. 9:35.

My gaze fell on the tabloid carried by a young woman in front of me. WANTED FOR DOUBLE MURDER! the headline screamed. I did a double-take. It was my own face plastered on the front page. A life-sized pencil portrait, complete with new hairdo. My insides torqued into a knot. If anybody in the lobby recognized me I'd be dead.

I lowered my head. My heart thumped inside my chest. Stay calm, girl. n.o.body would expect a killer in a courthouse, especially dressed like I was, in a cla.s.sic red blazer over a black knit dress, with chic sungla.s.ses. It was the only businesslike outfit the shopper had sent me, and I didn't look like a fugitive in it, I looked like a lawyer. I squared my padded shoulders, arranged my face into the mask of a busy professional, and frowned at my watch. 9:37.

The woman put her purse and the tabloid on the conveyor belt to the right. The tabloid flopped open to my picture. I fought the urge to bolt. Did anybody see it? A court security officer stood next to the belt but he was watching the parade of X-ray images on the monitor. If he looked over he'd spot the front page. All it would take was one glance.

"Miss? Step on through, please," said an older court officer to my left. I hadn't even noticed him standing there.

"Sure ... sorry," I stammered, tearing my eyes from the tabloid. I walked through the metal detector with the newspaper traveling beside me on the conveyor belt, plaguing me like the false accusation it was. I checked the security officer on the stool, but his gaze remained fixed on his monitor. The woman picked up her paper and other belongings, then went on her way. I exhaled for the first time and nabbed my purse as it came off the conveyor belt.

"Kinda dark for sungla.s.ses, don'cha think?" asked a security officer with a c.o.c.ky smile.

"Pinkeye," I said. I hurried past him and lost myself in the crowd waiting restlessly at the elevator bank. I checked my watch as coolly as possible. 9:40. The seconds ticked by almost palpably. The elevator was taking forever. Christ. I should have given myself more time, built in the delays. Police sirens blared outside and everyone ignored them but me. Just give me five more minutes of freedom. I had to get upstairs and deliver the cross-examination of my life. For my life.

Where was the G.o.dd.a.m.n elevator? Two lawyers began to complain loudly. One in a three-piece suit seemed to be watching me, trying to catch my eye. Did he recognize me from the newspaper? From somewhere else? I turned away, to the gray marble wall.

Bing! The elevator came and I shoved my way in with the mob as the doors closed. The gleaming Rolex of the man sandwiched next to me read 9:42. It was the three-piece suit, who must have maneuvered for the position beside me. He flashed me a sly smile but I stared at the elevator b.u.t.tons with apparent fascination. The panel was lit like carny lights, and I sweated bullets each time the elevator stopped on a floor that wasn't mine.

9:43. We were at the ninth floor, with only one left to go.

The lawyer shifted closer. "Excuse me," he said, "but don't I know-"

Bing! Tenth Floor! I jumped out of the elevator, ran past the COURT IN SESSION sign, and slipped into the courtroom. I paused by the doors, slipped off my sungla.s.ses, and scoped out the scene.

The gallery was fuller than the first day. Bob Wingate was there next to Renee Butler, as I'd hoped. The Honorable Judge Edward J. Thompson presided and Dr. Haupt sat stiffly in the witness stand. Eve Eberlein stood next to a projector that cast equations onto a white screen at the front of the courtroom. I hadn't figured on the projector. All the better.

The wall clock said 9:44. Time to go. I strode past the bar of the court and slipped my paper under the overhead projector before Eve had time to react. "Your Honor," I said, "members of the jury, would you please take a look at this exhibit? I think you'll find it serves the cause of justice."

"Bennie?" Eve sputtered. "Is that you?"

"Look at the screen. It's Exhibit A."

Eve whirled around and faced the projection screen. It was the news clipping, blown up larger than life at the front of the courtroom: YORK MAN FOUND SLAIN.

I heard her suck wind before she turned and said, "What are you doing here? I'm in the middle of a trial!"

From the dais, a puzzled Judge Thompson said, "Miss? Miss? Aren't you out of order?"

"On the contrary, Your Honor," I said. "This is my only chance to be heard, and it has to be in court to make the police listen."

"Police? What police?"

I looked around. The courtroom was still. The wall clock ticked onto 9:45. No cops. The jury stared at me, everyone stared at me. My face flushed red. G.o.dd.a.m.n elevators. "Uh, they're on their way, Your Honor."

Suddenly Azzic exploded through the courtroom doors with a squad of uniforms behind him and charged up the aisle.

"You killed this man, didn't you, Eve?" I called out. "You and Renee Butler murdered him, just like you murdered Mark!"

"That's outrageous!" Eve's pretty features were etched with a controlled fury as she eyed the police. "You killed Mark, not me!"

Azzic stopped at mid-aisle and held back his men with a beefy hand. The gallery wheeled back and forth at the commotion.

"You and Renee," I said. "You killed Eileen's husband together. Don't deny it. Renee confessed. She even gave me her key." I reached into my blazer pocket and flashed the edge of my locker key. It was too big, but it would do.

Eve's face slackened with momentary surprise and her gaze found Renee in the gallery.

"No, no!" Renee shouted, jumping to her feet. "That's not true! That's not my key!" Her hands flew to the neckline of her dress and she fumbled with the deep folds of cloth.

A group of court security officers banged through the courtroom doors. Most of the gallery was on its feet and headed for the exits, flooding the aisles. "What is going on here?" Judge Thompson demanded, but n.o.body was listening, least of all me.

"She's lying, Eve," I said, playing one off against the other. "She told the cops everything. That's why they're here, to arrest you. You stabbed Eileen's husband to death and you hid the murder weapon in a safety deposit box. Renee wears her key on a necklace, you keep yours on that charm bracelet. I remembered your line from the opinion letter, 'keys to a treasure chest.' I confronted Renee and she told me the whole story."

"No, no, no!" Renee cried. She began to panic and clawed frantically at her dress for the key. Azzic stood hard as bone, watching the scene in grim silence.

"Order! Come to order!" Judge Thompson shouted, slamming his gavel. Crak! Crak! Crak!

"This is ridiculous!" Eve spat out. "I'll sue you for defamation, for slander!" A sneer crept across her lipsticked mouth. She was too smart to incriminate herself, and I hadn't expected her to. I knew which one of them had a heart. I turned to Renee.

"Tell her the truth, Renee! Eileen's husband was your idea, but Mark was all Eve's. The cops have a statement from Jessie Morgan, from the law clinic."

"Jessie?" Renee froze on the spot, her eyes wide and br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears. Her hands ceased her frantic motion and her fingers halted at her neck, encircling her own throat. I felt a pang of sympathy but went straight for the jugular. She had killed Mark and she had betrayed me.

"You planted the scissors on me when you went to my apartment, Renee. You called in your chit with Eileen and got her to frame me for the CEO's murder. You had Eileen kill Bill because he wouldn't go along with it. Say it now. Tell the truth. This is your chance. You don't have to keep the secret anymore."

"No, no, no!" Renee cried out, her face contorted with anguish. She shook her head and began to sob. "It was ... Eve's idea. I didn't want to kill Mark. He didn't ... do anything. She said she'd tell ... about Eileen, what we did. She wanted the firm for herself. The new firm, the money."

I would have cheered the confession, but a wave of exhaustion washed over me, leaving me trembling. My eyes welled up with tears of relief. It was over.

Suddenly Eve bolted past an astounded jury to the judge's entrance by the dais. Azzic signaled to the uniformed cops, who chased up the aisle after her. Security guards clambered over the emptying pews to where Renee had slumped, weeping. Judge Thompson banged the gavel in vain. Crak! Crak! Crak!

Azzic fought his way up the aisle and stared at me, his eyes flickering with the tiniest twinge of regret, quickly masked.

I wiped my eyes, self-conscious. "Nice policework, Azzic."

When I looked up he was gone.

Chapter 40.

I woke up lazily the next morning, savoring the sensation of rest and peace. I tugged the comforter to my chin, taking a leisurely inventory: I was safe in my own bed, Bear snored in her favorite spot at my side, and a lawyer banged around in my kitchen. "Hey, you," I called out.

"Hey, yourself."

"Come back to bed."

"I'm busy." There was the clang of a pot, then cabinet doors opening and closing.

"What are you doing?"

"None of your business."

"When are you coming back?"

"When I'm good and ready." The tap was turned on, then off.

"But I'm good and ready now." I'd been less tired than I thought last night, and this morning I was feeling even less tired than that. Must be the rowing. A useful sport.

"Stop being so bossy!"

"I can't help it, I'm the boss."

"Are not, partner."

I smiled. "Are we partners now? I'll have to think about that."

"Rosato & Wells is fine with me. I know how shy you are."

In the next instant I heard it. A gurgle I could identify in my sleep. My heart leapt up. I hoped against hope. "The paper towels are-"

"I found them," he said, and I snuggled under the covers in delicious antic.i.p.ation. Life was good. A man with this set of skills was hard to find. I doubted I'd look any further. The aroma of his perfect coffee arrived just as he did.

"Lord, are you rude!" Grady said, naked except for his briefs and the STUDm.u.f.fIN Mug I'd swiped from Homicide when I'd sprung him. My fee to be a nuisance. And now it was full.

"Coffee!" I sat up and reached for it thirstily. The first sip hit my tongue. It was my third o.r.g.a.s.m in eight hours.

"Drink fast. We have something important to do." Grady sat on the bed and grinned at me.

"More important than coffee?"

"Absolutely."

"What could possibly be more important than coffee?" I was backsliding into Mae West, but Grady only frowned.

"You think I mean s.e.x? No way." He plucked his pants from the floor and pulled them on. "Drink up and get dressed."

"What?"

"It's all arranged. I fixed it while you were asleep." He searched for his workshirt. "We have somewhere to go."

"Where?"

"You'll see," he said, and even Bear lifted her ears, intrigued.

Ten minutes later, I was locked in one of Hattie's pungent bear hugs, pressed awkwardly into the royal flush of shiny playing cards that spanned her bosom. "I'm so happy to see you, so happy," she said. "Thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d."

"It's okay now, it's all over." I hugged her back as hard as I could. I'd gotten home too late last night to stop in and I wasn't up to seeing my mother then anyway. I'd intended to deal with her after a solid night's sleep, but Grady had made other plans. Without my permission.

"Come in," Hattie said, then stepped back and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Come in, both of you. She's in her room."

"How is she?"

"You'll see soon enough." Hattie closed the apartment door and shot Grady a look so knowing it made me laugh.

"Have you two been conspiring?"

She smiled. "Me and Grady are old friends, by now."

He nodded. "We grew up not ten miles apart, did you know that, Bennie? Hattie grew up near the Georgia border, and I was born in Murphy, right over the line."

Hattie tugged at my arm. "We had ourselves a nice long talk on the telephone. Now let's go see your momma. She's awake."

Grady took my other arm. "Come on, Bennie. I want to meet her."

I let them yank me along only reluctantly. "Do we have to do this now? What do I say to her? Sorry I sent you to-"

"Say what comes natural," Hattie said. Bear trotted at the heels of her scruffy bedroom slippers as she and Grady tugged me through the living room. "Did you know your momma knew all about Mark's murder?"

"She did?"

"Said you told her all about it, at night." We reached my mother's door, which was slightly ajar, and Hattie pressed it open.

"My G.o.d," I heard myself say, the sight was so unexpected.

A soft morning breeze blew through the open screen, billowing through the curtains. The room was bright and smelled fresh, only faintly floral. My mother sat in a chair by the bed, still as calm water, reading a newspaper. JOINT VENTURE, said the headline above photos of Renee and Eve. My mother's hair had been combed into neat waves, and she wore slacks and a pressed white blouse. She seemed not to see me standing at the threshold in wonder.

"Is she ... cured?" I whispered.

"No, but she's gettin' there," Hattie said softly. "Carmella, honey," she called, "see who's come home."

My mother looked up from the paper and her brown eyes opened slightly in surprise. "Benedetta."

Her voice struck a chord, buried deep. No one but my mother called me Benedetta, and I felt the sound reverberating inside me. Resonating within my chest. Calling me to dinner, or from play. To climb onto her lap. Benedetta.

"Benedetta, you're free," she said.

My eyes stung. A lump appeared in my throat. My heart lifted. She didn't know how right she was, and neither did I.

Until now.