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  Mary stepped out of the elevator cab, but there was a crowd in the elevator lobby. Hospital security in white shirts mixed with uniformed Philadelphia police, talking among themselves, their walkie-talkies crackling. Raindrops dappled the heavy shoulders of the cops’ uniforms, dotting their light blue shirts, and they had plastic covers on their hats, which were also wet. Mary had never seen security officers on the floor before, much less Philadelphia police, and the sight of their thick utility belts with retractable nightsticks, Tasers, and holstered Glocks seemed oddly out of place in a hospital dedicated to healing.

  “What’s the problem, Officers?” Mary asked, making her way through the crowd.

  “Nothing to be concerned about,” one of the cops answered, with a professional smile.

  “Okay, well, thanks for what you do.” Mary let it go, turned down the hallway, and headed for the nurses’ station. She had almost reached it when a cadre of police and more hospital security turned the corner, coming toward them like a phalanx. In the middle of them walked Simon, who tugged down his surgical mask to reveal an expression numb with shock.

  “Simon?” Mary called back, reeling. She couldn’t imagine what the police wanted with him.

  “Mary!” he called out, his eyes flaring with alarm. “Come with me!”

  Mary hustled to the group, which closed ranks around Simon, behind the lead cop. “Officer, what’s this about?”

  “It’s police business, ma’am,” the lead cop answered, his expression grim under the bill of his cap. “Please, step aside.”

  Mary stood her ground, blocking the way. “Officer, my name is Mary DiNunzio, and I’m here to see him—”

  “That’s my lawyer, she’s my lawyer!” Simon called out from the middle of the crowd. The nurses and a doctor at the nurses’ station edged away, their expressions collectively shocked.

  “Ma’am, please step aside,” the cop repeated, his tone more conciliatory. “There’s very sick children on this floor. We don’t want to disturb them.”

  “I know, his daughter is one of them.” Mary lowered her voice anyway. “Just tell me what’s going on, please?”

  “We’re escorting him downtown for questioning.”

  “For what?” Mary asked, flabbergasted.

  “In connection with the death of one Todd Eddington.” The cop gestured over his shoulder at two men in suits, who had just turned the corner with a hospital-administrative type in a CHOP lanyard. “You want details, ask them. They’re the detectives.”

  Simon called out, “Mary, call my father.”

  “I will,” Mary called back, her mind reeling.

  “Ma’am,” the cop said, sternly. “Now please, move aside.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Bennie sat at Declan’s kitchen table and hunched over his laptop, pressing Refresh to see if there had been any developments in the death of Todd Eddington. The police hadn’t released any new details, so all she knew was that it was a result of a single stab wound to the chest, but her senses were on high alert. Authorities hadn’t weighed in on whether it was suicide or murder, and she knew there would be no official statement until the medical examiner had officially completed the autopsy in a day or two. But Bennie had handled enough murder cases in her day to know that this one stunk to high heaven.

  The undercounter TV was on next to her, and she checked the screen to see if there were any new developments, but a car commercial was on. She returned to the laptop and hit the Refresh button on autopilot, but there was nothing new, there either. Still, she kept trying to put two and two together from the facts she had, replaying her interview with Todd in her mind. She kept coming up with the same conclusion; he didn’t strike her as someone who’d commit suicide. He was cocky, competent, and aggressive, the kind of man who turned his anger outward, not inward. And his last word as he had left the conference room today clearly suggested he was looking forward to the future.

  I want my day in court. I want to clear my name.

  “Babe, five minutes!” Declan called to her from the deck, where he was barbecuing burgers. An aromatic haze wafted through the screen of the sliding doors, and she hit the button for Refresh on autopilot, her thoughts churning. She felt vaguely stressed since her conversation with Mary and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl, who would have to figure out the effect of Todd’s death on Simon’s case against OpenSpace. Bennie thought it would improve Simon’s case, since OpenSpace wouldn’t be able to put Todd on the stand and have him testify that Simon’s allegations were false, thus losing the chance for the jury to find him credible or even like him.

  Bennie hit Refresh again, continuing her train of thought. And if Simon’s case went as far as trial, Mary would still get the contemporaneous notes admitted into evidence, even over a hearsay objection, because they were coming in only to prove the fact that they were said, not that they were true. Legally, Todd’s death could be good news for Mary’s case, but Mary would never think about it that way. Mary cared about people more than cases, even her friend Simon’s case, and she would nevertheless feel terrible that someone had murdered Todd.

  “Babe, come out and get some fresh air!”

  “In a minute!”

  “You said that fifteen minutes ago!”

  “But this time I mean it. That time I lied!” Bennie hit Refresh again, wondering about what Mary had said, that there was a defamation suit filed against Simon. It struck Bennie as an overreaction to an individual ADA case and she sensed Nate was taking out his anger at her on Mary and Simon. She couldn’t imagine a basis for any suit against Simon, but she didn’t have to guess.

  “Babe! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

  “Okay, here I come!” Bennie logged on to the website for the Common Pleas Court, clicked on the magnifying glass for its searchable case index, and plugged in OpenSpace in the block for plaintiff’s name and Simon Pensiera for the defendant’s. In the next moment, a link popped onto the screen, and she clicked it, opening a complaint that had evidently been filed in the case today. She rose with the laptop as she read the allegations, walking outside into a cloud of barbecue smoke.

  “You’re like a kid with that thing.” Declan flipped his hamburger, and Bennie crossed the small deck to a faded red canvas chair that matched the reddish trim on the A-frame house, which was surrounded by Declan’s pastures in the middle of the country. His horses grazed near the fence, having been fed and turned out for the night, and the air felt cool and breezy as the sun slipped behind the jagged tree line.

  “I’m reading a complaint that got filed today, in what can only be retaliation for Mary’s suit against OpenSpace.”

  “Not a counterclaim, an entirely separate lawsuit?”

  “Yes, for defamation, based on some comment Simon made about Eddington and also for trade libel based on quality control.”

  “Man.” Declan waved the smoke away from his face. “Do you think your buddy Nate knows about that litigation?”

  “I think so,” Bennie answered, because she had been thinking the same thing. “He wouldn’t normally, but this time, he’s taking it personally.”

  “Because you’re involved. Hell hath no fury like a lawyer scorned.”

  “You think he’s doing it to get to me?”

  “Yes.” Declan nodded, matter-of-factly. “You know what convinced me? His bringing Mary in front of a disciplinary board. That’s way out of line. You could ruin somebody’s career. And for what? A judgment call?”

  “I know, right? It’s weird.”

  “Not weird, obvious. He knows you care about her, so he’s going to hurt her. He’s throwing everything he has at your girl.” Declan picked up a spatula and a platter from the side of the grill.

  “Hmm.” Bennie scrolled to the complaint, skimming the statements that Simon was alleged to have made. “I don’t believe a word of this. I think this Todd is a liar. Was a liar. I just don’t know why they would do this. And I don’t know what, if anything, either of th
ese suits has to do with his murder.”

  “It was definitely murder,” Declan said, with the confidence of a former cop. “Unless they find a note, not a suicide. And maybe even if they find a note. Not a suicide.”

  “I agree, but what makes you say that?”

  “It’s almost impossible to kill yourself by stabbing yourself in the chest. The sternum gets in the way. It’s even hard to stab somebody else through the sternum.” Declan took the food off the heat and set it on the table. “Dinnertime.”

  “Educate me,” Bennie said, rising with the laptop. She came over to the picnic table, sat next to him, and set the laptop on her right so she could keep checking.

  “The sternum is a big, thick breastbone that runs down the center of your chest. It’s meant to protect the heart. It does a good job. I arrested a guy once, he broke a hunting knife on another guy’s sternum.” Declan picked up the ketchup and squirted it all over his burger, and Bennie tried not to imagine blood.

  “Did the guy live?”

  “Yes. The knife died.” Declan grinned crookedly. “You have to pick the exact right spot. The ribs get in the way.”

  “But it’s possible. If Todd didn’t do it himself, then somebody did it to him.”

  “I didn’t say it couldn’t be done. I said he couldn’t do it himself. Highly unlikely.” Declan placed his hamburger bun on top of his burger, then mashed it down with the flat of his hand. Ketchup oozed out of the sides, and Bennie started to lose her appetite. She had been so preoccupied with the case that somehow, she had forgotten the fact that a human being had died.

  “This is so awful, I don’t know who would kill Todd Eddington. A sales manager at a cubicle manufacturer? Sitting in a parking lot at his country club?”

  “You told me he drove a Porsche. Could’ve been a carjacking gone wrong. What about his wallet and watch?” Declan took a big bite of his burger, chewing away.

  “I don’t know. And they left the car.”

  “When the job goes wrong, they don’t take the car.”

  “But a carjacking in broad daylight?”

  “It’s pouring in Philly. Visibility is low. Nobody’s outside. Nobody’s playing golf. The lot couldn’t have been that full. Opportunity plus motive equals crime. I’m good at math.” Declan chewed happily away, but Bennie had grown used to his gallows humor, having been around enough homicide detectives to know that it was a defense mechanism.

  “But how random could it be? A country club is private property.”

  “I doubt they check your ID when you go in. We could find out in five minutes.” Declan gestured at the computer. “Or it could be another member. Jealous husband. Has our boy been fooling around?”

  “Possibly. He was divorced and not terrible looking.”

  “He had a big job. That’s catnip.”

  “Don’t be sexist.” Bennie shot him a look. “I have a big job.”

  “Why do you think I’m sleeping with you?” Declan took another big bite of his burger, which was almost finished. “Aren’t you going to eat your veggie burger? I cooked that barley to perfection.”

  “Thanks, in a minute.” Bennie turned to the computer, refreshing Philly.com for the local news, but there was nothing new. “So much is going on, and I’m worried about Mary. She sounded shell-shocked when I called her.”

  “I agree, she’s got a lot going on. ADA case. Ethics complaint. Defamation case.” Declan smiled in a knowing way, reaching for his beer bottle. “Luckily, she’s not your partner anymore. Or your problem. She’s leaving your firm, remember?”

  “I know.” Bennie felt a pang. “She wouldn’t if she didn’t have to.”

  “I know that,” Declan said with a smile, and Bennie knew he meant it because he liked Mary.

  “Then what’s your point?”

  “She’s leaving. You’re going to have to let her go.”

  “I’m letting her go. I’m not stopping her.” Bennie hit Refresh again.

  “I mean figuratively. Let her go.” Declan met her eye directly. “Her problems are not your problems anymore.”

  “But I still care about her.”

  “Try to detach.”

  “It’s hard,” Bennie blurted out, surprised to hear the words coming out of her own mouth. “It took me so long to get attached. I’m attached.”

  “She’s not a puppy, babe.”

  “I know, but I’m worried about her. She won’t have anybody if Carrier stays with me. She’ll be completely on her own.”

  “Didn’t I just hear you pitch Judy to stay with you?” Declan smiled slightly, his crow’s-feet crinkling with amusement.

  “I know.” Bennie hit Refresh, and suddenly the screen changed, to a video feed in front of the Roundhouse. A new headline read Man Questioned in Stabbing Death. “Look, something’s happening!”

  “What?” Declan got up and came around Bennie’s other side, watching the laptop over her shoulder.

  “There’s video!” Bennie clicked to play the video, which showed a man being escorted into the revolving doors at the Roundhouse, which was the police administration building.

  The voiceover said: “Police have brought in for questioning an unidentified male in connection with the death of Todd Eddington, the Horsham man found stabbed to death today. Authorities have not yet identified the man, who has not been arrested for the crime. He is considered a person of interest…”

  Bennie eyed the man. “I wonder who he is.”

  “That’s the perp? What is this, chess club?” Declan snorted, but Bennie fixated on the screen as the video showed the man disappearing inside the building, followed by a small woman whom she recognized instantly.

  “That’s Mary!” Bennie hit the button to freeze the video.

  “Your partner?” Declan asked, incredulous.

  “Yes!” Bennie rewound the video and played it over again, confirming her identification. She felt a bolt of surprise when she put two and two together. “The person of interest must be Simon!”

  “Oh, whoa.” Declan grimaced. “So the cops think Simon killed Eddington? Damn. Now that makes sense.”

  Bennie found herself on her feet. “Why? What would make you say that? You don’t know any of these people.”

  “Common sense.” Declan shrugged. “Eddington fired Simon. And when Simon sued him for it, Eddington sued him back. That’s motive.”

  “Poor Mary.” Bennie edged backwards, suddenly restless. “I need to get back to the city. She’s got a murder case on her hands. She hasn’t done that many of them.”

  “Hold on. Think this through.” Declan rose, holding up a hand. “Like I just said, she’s not your problem. She’s a lawyer. She knows what she’s doing. Let her do it.”

  “I can help. I’ll be backup, I won’t interfere, just let her know I’m there if she needs me. It’s not like we’re in conflict anymore. This isn’t a civil case, and Dumbarton isn’t on the other side. The Commonwealth is.”

  “I know. But that’s not your problem.” Declan came toward her, touching her arm. “Babe. You can stay here. Relax for the weekend.”

  “She’s got a tiger by the tail.”

  “She didn’t call you.”

  “She probably didn’t feel she could. Or she didn’t have the time.” Bennie thought a minute. “Just like you, when you offered me the loan. I didn’t ask for it, but you offered it. That was just kind. I appreciate that. I want to be kind to Mary. If she needs me, I’ll be there. I have to go.”

  Declan sighed. “Okay. I understand. Good thing we had sex first.”

  Bennie burst into laughter and gave him a big hug and a kiss. “I agree,” she said, meaning it.

  “Take your veggie burger,” Declan said, kissing her again.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Mary followed the detectives, the remaining cops, and Simon, bringing up the rear as the group funneled into the narrow corridor that led to the Homicide Division. She knew she was taking a backseat but it was only for the time being. She would
assert herself when it counted, once they got inside the squad room. She wasn’t the most experienced criminal defense attorney in the world, but she’d been involved in one or two murder cases, even one recently. She was no Bennie Rosato, but she could get the job done. She hoped.

  She hurried down the corridor, which curved because the Roundhouse was three round sections put together, the source of its nickname. She was no longer surprised by the poor condition of the building: Fluorescent lights flickered, greenish floor tiles were grimy and broken, and the walls were of cheap paneling, circa 1960s. They passed the bathroom on the right, its door propped open by a trash can, and it smelled as bad as she remembered from last time. Every year, politicians talked about moving the department to a nicer building but it never happened, and Mary suspected the police needed a better lawyer. She would do it for free, for the public servants who kept her hometown safe.

  The group reached the end of the hallway and went through a secured door next to a plaque that read simply HOMICIDE, then filled up the tiny entrance lobby, lined with rubbery black seats and wanted posters. Beyond the reception area was a front desk and a bustling, if cramped, squad room.

  Detectives in short sleeves, their ties loosened, worked on ancient computers at battered desks, surrounded by mismatched gray file cabinets and bulletin boards with outdated memos, and bumper stickers for the Phillies and the Eagles. Windows with broken blinds lined the far side of the room and the air conditioners had a death rattle, so it was uncomfortably hot, and most of the detectives had little blue fans sitting on their desks, whirring away like so many toy airplane propellers.

  Mary looked around for Detectives Randolph or Hilliard, whom she knew from Patrick’s case, but they weren’t in sight. She forced her way through the uniformed cops to Simon, putting a hand on his arm. Simon looked over, his mouth a tight line, and Mary knew him well enough to know that he was keeping a lid on his emotions. She never would have dreamed that he’d be a person of interest in a murder investigation and she knew he didn’t kill Todd, but she had to find out why he’d been called in. The detectives hadn’t told her anything more at the hospital and they had taken Simon in the squad car, so she hadn’t been able to talk to him either.