“This sounds like a bullshit story,” she said as she leaned into the corner. Kelly had never seen her in sweatpants before, no makeup. The bags under her eyes needed coffee. They had awakened her an hour ago. Charlie spread his hands.

“This is what happened,” he said. “The guy’s dead.”

“I believe that much.”

“And what exactly don’t you believe?” Kelly asked.

“Don’t get self-righteous, Fienman,” Vicki snapped. “I don’t know everything that happened last night, but you’re scaring me again. You’re not even supposed to be on the job.”

Kelly shrugged. “I went along for the ride.”

“How long you been riding this particular wave, Charlie?” Vicki asked.

“How long have I suspected Amy? From the beginning.”

“You keep your opinions to yourself. Why did she kill her husband?”

“For money,” Charlie said.

“Is that why she helped kidnap her own kid?”

“Maybe,” Charlie said.

“I don’t buy it,” Vicki said.

“Why not?” Kelly asked.

“Stupid question. You have no proof.”

Charlie spoke. “David’s dead. We saw her push him overboard. Later, we can sort out how his murder might relate to the child, Jimmy. For now, Amy Techer is guilty of murder one. What other proof do we need?”

“Her lawyer’s going to rape you guys.”

“Hope he’s good-looking,” Kelly said.

Vicki scowled. “What’s your problem? I’m trying to help you.”

“Do we need help?” Kelly asked.

“Did anyone ever tell you that your attitude sucks, Fienman?”

“Dirty Harry would take that as a compliment,” Kelly said.

Vicki simmered. She was no fool when it came to schemes. Yet they might have convinced her, despite her reservations. There was no obvious hole in their story. Why would they lie? Not even Vicki, for all her street smarts, would suspect the whole truth. It was too preposterous.

“Where’s Amy now?” Charlie asked.

“They’ve detained her,” Vicki said. “That’s all. She hasn’t been booked. She hasn’t made a statement. I hear a lawyer’s coming.”

“Do you know who?” Charlie asked.

“Somebody expensive. Mr. Techer’s in her corner.”

“Curious,” Kelly said. “Amy just murdered his son.”

“She was probably banging father and son,” Vicki said.

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Kelly muttered.

“If she has the kid, I wonder where she keeps him?” Vicki said.

Charlie and Kelly chose to remain silent.

Vicki let them go a short time later. Kelly and Charlie regrouped in a coffee shop down the street. Caffeine and sugar—breakfast of chumps. Charlie had jam with his toast and Kelly ate a doughnut, her first since the Acid Man had performed exploratory surgery on her intestines. She felt reckless—a half dozen digestive enzymes would take care of the lard. Charlie kept shaking his head as he ate.

“She knows we’re hiding something,” he said.

“She only suspects. It’s her nature.”

“Did you need to piss her off?”