“By yourself?”

“Yes, sir.” She paused. Added, without any attempt at humor: “After he fell down the stairs. He appeared to be quite intoxicated.”

“She fucking pushed me!” said Rollo.

The judge slammed down his gavel. “I have heard enough out of you! Bailiff, please remove the defendant.”

“Your honor.” The defense attorney rose. “I will keep him under control.”

“You haven’t done a very good job of it so far, Ms. Quinlan.”

“He’ll be quiet now.” She looked at her client. “Won’t you?”

Rollo gave a resentful grunt.

Spurlock said: “No further questions, your honor,” and sat down.

The judge looked at the defense attorney. “Ms. Quinlan?”

Victoria Quinlan rose for the cross-examination. Jane had never before dealt with this particular attorney, and she was not sure what to expect. As Quinlan approached the witness stand, Jane thought: You’re young, blond, and gorgeous. What are you doing defending this creep? The woman moved like a fashion model on a catwalk, long legs emphasized by a short skirt and pointy high heels. It made Jane’s feet hurt just to look at those shoes. A woman like Quinlan had probably always been the center of attention, and she was milking it now as she strolled to the witness stand, clearly aware that every man sitting in that jury box was probably staring at her firm little ass.

“Good morning, Detective,” said Quinlan. Sweetly. Too sweetly. Any second now this blonde was going to sprout fangs.

“Good morning, ma’am,” said Jane, utterly neutral.

“You said that you are currently assigned to the homicide unit.”