Alex Harrington stood silent and stoic, the innocent man in the dock. Mia wondered if the others could see the calculation in his eyes. She saw the instant he decided what to do. He began shaking his head back and forth and whispered, his voice steeped in pain and regret, “All right, if you must know the truth. It wasn’t my fault, her death. I hate to say this, hate it, but it was Kent who struck her. I was talking to some guys, drinking too much, I’ll admit, and when I happened to look over, they were dancing in place, talking over each other to be heard, when Kent suddenly hit her. I don’t know what happened, maybe she said something, but it all happened so fast—her dying, but it was an accident, he really didn’t mean to hurt her.”

He swallowed, managed to make his voice shake. “He was my best friend, I had to help him or he’d go to prison. Yes, I’ve told Pam about what happened and she understood. We were discussing whether to tell you, Detective Hoolihan, because of those rumors at the press conference, but it’s so difficult. Kent could be dying, maybe shot by someone taking revenge, I don’t know. You must believe this, the girl’s death was an accident, Kent didn’t mean to kill her.”

Mia pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket and touched play. Kent Harper’s whispery voice sounded in the silent room.

“You saw Alex put a roofie in your drink and he was really mad so he hit you, hit you with his fist against your head, too hard, and you were just—dead.”

The only sound in the room was Alex Harrington’s harsh breathing and the pop of an ember exploding in the fireplace.

Pamela said, “What Kent said, he was obviously out of his mind, you can hear it. He was so drugged, he’d have said anything. What does he mean ‘you’ saw anything? None of it makes sense. That was pitiful.”

Sherlock said, “Kent Harper believed he was talking to Serena, but it makes no difference. He knew exactly where she was buried and what he said makes sense in every way.” She looked from Alex to Pamela. “I imagine the two of you have been sitting here hand-clasping, praying Kent Harper will die. The newest word? Your very best friend in the whole world, Mr. Kent Harper, is going to live. Do you think he won’t testify against you, Mr. Harrington?”

Alex drew himself up, smoothed out his breathing. “I want to call my lawyer.”

Detective Hoolihan said smoothly, “That’s your right, sir, but you will make your call from the station. I am arresting you for the murder of Serena Winters, human being,” and Hoolihan read him his rights. “Do you understand these rights?”