Karp felt an embarrassed sweat blossom on his face.

"Sorry, I was somewhere else. Hit me with that again."

The young man said, "This is Wismer. Defendant beat his estranged wife to death with a blunt instrument. The case… the charge is murder two…"

The kid was nervous. Karp recalled that this was probably his first murder case solo, and could be his first homicide trial. It did not occur to Karp that the kid was nervous because he was presenting an issue to a demigod. Awe made Karp uncomfortable, and so he simply refused to recognize that it existed.

Collins, his name was, Karp recalled. A neat, strong-looking black kid from upstate somewhere, and an athlete, like nearly all the people Karp hired. He had a pencil mustache he kept fiddling with. From time to time he glanced at his watch.

Karp reached into his mental files. "Yeah, Wismer, guy's got a sheet as a petty thief and dealer, seen leaving the wife's apartment, picked out of a lineup. What's the problem?"

"Somebody called the cops, wouldn't give the name. A woman. Said there was a boyfriend, and he did the crime. The boyfriend's a man named Warren Hobart. Also not a taxpayer: did time on a 120.10 a couple of years ago plus the usual drug shit."

"Don't tell me-he looks just like Wismer."

Collins smiled. "Well, they're both medium-sized, skinny, medium-dark black guys. Surprise."

"So, put them in a lineup and see which one the witness likes best."

"Um, that's the problem. The cops think it's bullshit. They got the guy, Wismer. Case is cleared."

Karp's brow clouded at this, and he asked, "What's the rest of Wismer? We have any physical evidence?"

"We have a print on the murder weapon."

"Which was?"

"A juice machine."

"A what?"

"Yeah, right. It was one of those old-fashioned kind of orange-juice squeezers-all steel, weighed a ton. Must've just grabbed it there in the kitchen and whapped her a couple upside the head. Crushed in her temple bone."