“Aren’t you eating?”

“I’ve been eating all morning. Please, sit down.” Sarah led Cate back to the living room, where she gestured her into a regular chair, and she took the stool in front of the fireplace.

“Thank you.” Cate accepted the food plate and balanced it on her lap, on top of her skirt. More Chanel, but it wasn’t making her feel as good as it usually did. Nothing could, with the sorrow that pervaded the empty house. Cate stabbed a piece of salad and ate. “Delicious.”

“My aunt made most of this. I love to cook, but can’t during shiva.” Sarah looked up at her from her baby stool.

“Why the stools, may I ask?”

“It symbolizes being struck down by grief. Visitors don’t have to sit on them.”

“I see.” Cate scanned the room discreetly, noting the covered mirror, which she had seen before, at an Orthodox Jewish wedding. The air smelled a little smoky, from a large white candle burning on the mantelpiece among an array of framed photos, undoubtedly the couple in happier times. Cate got on with it. “So, to your letter. I must tell you, I’m skeptical.”

“I know, I understand. That’s why I’m so thrilled you came today, just to hear me out.”

“That’s what you said you wanted, so here I am.”

“Well, first,” Sarah nodded, hugging her knees, oddly high on the low stool, “I felt that I could turn to you because of what you said about my husband at the trial.”

Next time I shut up. Cate cut some beef, which oozed warm juices, and ate a pinkish piece, which melted in her mouth.

“You understood my husband, I thought, and you showed a real sense of justice, and injustice.”

“Thank you.” Cate nodded, chewing so she wouldn’t comment further. She had promised herself only to listen, and didn’t want to do anything unjudicial, in case she ever got her job back. Or hell froze over.

“Judge, I know my husband didn’t kill anybody, and I know that he didn’t kill himself. He would never do such things.” Sarah’s tone rang with love and certainty. “I spoke with his lawyer after the funeral and told him, but he didn’t believe me. He thinks I’m in denial.”

“Are you?” Cate took another bite.

“No, and I thought you might understand better. First, Richard came from an extremely observant family. As I said, his late father was a rabbi. Richard almost became one, too. He knew a violent crime such as murder, and later suicide, would violate express Jewish law.”

Cate listened, dubious. Six months of being a judge had taught her that respect for law was a flexible concept. Correction, one day of being a judge.

“He would have known that both crimes would kill his mother, and he loved her very much. She lives with us, and since this happened, she’s on round-the-clock tranquilizers. I even had to hire a nurse for her. He would never do that to her, and she knows it. We both do.”

Cate ate, listening. She had remembered from trial about the mother upstairs and wondered where the dog was that she walked for them.

“Also, we loved each other. We did. He felt bad enough that the trial was going so terribly, just for the strain it put on us. He never would have left me alone, this way.”

Cate ate, though she was losing her appetite. Every bereft wife felt like this. Suicides left so much pain in their wake.

“What do you think? Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes.” Cate rested her fork on the plate. “I’m very sorry for you, for your loss. I was moved by your letter. But you said there was something you had to tell me, something that would convince me that your husband didn’t commit murder, or suicide.” Cate paused. It was so hard to say to this girl, her young life in ruins. “And to be honest, Sarah, I’m not hearing anything like that. I know you’re in pain, but when there’s enough despair, even the most reasonable-”

“Judge, I’m pregnant,” Sarah blurted out. “I’m two months along. My mother-in-law doesn’t know. My father doesn’t know. I told Richard’s lawyer, the other day, to try to convince him. And of course, Richard knew.”

Cate blinked.

“We had been trying for three years, since the day we got married. We both wanted this baby so much. I told Richard the night before he supposedly committed murder, then killed himself. I have never seen him so happy in my life, and I’ve known him since high school.”

Hmm. Cate couldn’t help considering it, given the new facts.

“We were waiting until the third month to tell our families. He insisted that he be the one to tell, when the time came.” Sarah’s eyes glistened, but her voice held firm. “He wanted a child even more than I did. He even picked out the name. Ariel, after his favorite aunt, who died of breast cancer, or Jacob, after his father, of course.”

Cate felt touched.

“We both sensed it was a girl, and Richard wanted a girl so badly. Judge, why would a man who just found out the happiest news of his life kill himself? Or kill someone else?”

Cate had no immediate answer. Her head resisted the conclusion, but her heart was listening. And she didn’t know what she could do about it, anyway.

“Richard always had a great perspective, and he loved kids. He coached girls and boys basketball at the JCC on City Line.”

“When did you tell Temin about your pregnancy?”

“When he came over after the funeral. But I don’t think he understood the significance. He’s not a woman.”

Cate let it go. She didn’t think that sympathy had a gender. “But he knew Richard, didn’t he? They seemed close at trial.”

“Nate didn’t know him that well. Not well enough, anyway. He only knew Richard’s professional side.”

“But what about at the trial, after I ruled? Richard got so upset about my judgment, he attacked Simone.”

“He lost his temper, but it wouldn’t last. It never did. He would never kill Simone. He would never stay angry enough to kill Simone, or anyone. He would never ever do that, not knowing a baby was on the way. His baby.”

“Maybe he felt even worse because he’d lost, with a baby on the way. Now he knew he’d have a family to support.”

“No. My family has money, and I have a trust fund, that’s why we’re not in financial trouble. We’ve lived on my trust fund for this past year, after Richard quit his job to write screenplays. His lawsuit was never about money, it was about his pride in his writing and the fact that Simone was getting away with stealing his work.”

Cate began to feel the tiniest wedge of doubt that Marz had been the killer.

“He told me, more than once, that he wouldn’t be that upset if he lost the lawsuit. He expected to lose the lawsuit, and Nate told him he would, too. Besides, Richard was a lawyer, he knew the law. He knew his case was a long shot, but he thought if he got to the jury, he had a chance. And he really wanted to hold Simone accountable.”

“He wanted his day in court.”

“Exactly.”

Cate nodded. It was just what she’d thought. She would have done the same thing.

“Richard did not kill Art Simone. And he did not kill himself. I just know it.”

“The police are sure of their case, and it’s closed. They’re good cops. Smart.” Like Nesbitt, Cate thought but didn’t say.

“But other detectives don’t agree at all, like Frank Russo. He knew Richard better than any of them.”

“Russo?” Cate burst into laughter.

“What?”

“He tried to kill me last night, upstate. He thinks I killed Art Simone.”

“What?” Sarah’s brown eyes flared in disbelief.

“It’s in the newspaper, didn’t you see it? A small headline, relatively, and almost no article. Maybe I should have been offended.”

“I didn’t see it. I haven’t seen a newspaper since Richard died. We suspend our normal activities to sit shiva, and it lasts seven days.”

Maybe I should convert. Maybe everybody should.

“What happened?” Sarah asked, and Cate told her, making attempted murder as entertaining as possible. This girl didn’t need more tsuris. “So I’m not sure Russo is your best argument. Did he know Richard well?”