“Well enough to know Richard wasn’t the type to commit suicide. Don’t you see?” Sarah leaned forward on the tiny stool. “Russo’s instincts told him that my husband wasn’t the killer, but he was just wrong about who was. I don’t know who did it, either. I just know that Richard didn’t. And I think that that person killed Richard and made it look like a suicide.”

“Let me ask you something,” Cate said, against her better judgment. She set the plate of food down on the glass coffee table. “What happened after that day in court, after I ruled from the bench?”

Sarah thought a minute. “You made your ruling, and Richard got into that fight in the courtroom, then you left the bench and they separated Richard and Simone. Simone left with his lawyer, and Richard hugged me and said he wanted to be alone and asked would I please take Mom home, because she was upset, too. So I did.”

“And he disappeared after that?” Cate frowned, and Sarah raised a hand, as if to stave off the thought.

“It’s not as weird as it sounds. Richard frequently went off alone, to think. He was a scholar, a philosophy major at Swarthmore. He thought about things.” Sarah’s eyes came alive with love. “He was internal, always pondering. That’s why he liked computers so much. He was an intellectual. Not a man of action, or violence.”

“He attacked somebody in open court, Sarah.”

“Attacking isn’t shooting to kill, Judge.”

Cate smiled. True, that. “Where did he go, to think?”

“To temple, to the library, or sometimes the park. Off by himself. That’s where I think he was when whoever it was killed Simone, outside the restaurant.” Sarah raised her voice, vehement. “Richard would never do that! We didn’t own a gun. Where did he get it?”

“Where everybody does. Bought it or got it off the street from somebody.”

“We didn’t know anybody who could get him a gun ‘off the street’.”

“But he was an assistant DA. Didn’t he meet criminal types there?”

“No, he handled computer crime. He met geeks. And when did he buy this gun, supposedly? He rushed right out after court and bought it?”

“Why not?”

“He wouldn’t even know how to fire a gun.”

“It can’t be hard,” Cate said, though she had never fired one, either. “Too many dumb people are good at it.”

“Judge, don’t you see what I’m saying?” Sarah asked, newly urgent. “Don’t you agree with me?”

“I don’t know.” Cate shook her head. “I see your point, I do. And even if I was agreeing, I don’t know what I could do about it.”

“Ask the police to reopen the case. I’ve already written them, and they refused. Maybe they would do it, if you asked. A federal judge, who heard the case.”

An ex-federal judge, but you don’t read the papers. “Forget the police, they won’t do anything officially. They reopen cases for newly discovered evidence, not supposition.”

“But Richard didn’t do it, and the killer is still out there. Free.”

“Tell you what, I’ve come to know Detective Nesbitt, who worked on the case. I’ll bring it up with him and see what he thinks, unofficially. I’m sure I’ll be talking with him later.” At least I hope I will be.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Sarah jumped up and impulsively threw her arms around Cate, giving her a heartfelt hug. “I knew you would help.”

“Please don’t have any false hopes, though.” Cate rose and hugged her back, then held her off, steadying her. “Hear me? You have to be realistic. Nesbitt believed his original theory and he has hard evidence to support it. I’m not sure your pregnancy changes anything for him, or anybody else.”

“I know, I know, but I think it will. I pray it will.”

“Chillax,” Cate said, using as motherly a tone as she could muster, borrowing Nesbitt’s expression, and Sarah laughed, her tone lighter than before.

“I can’t, I’m so pleased.” Sarah clapped her smallish hands with delight, and Cate started to worry she was getting carried away.

“You know, even if we manage to get them to reopen the case, which I swear we won’t, it wouldn’t bring Richard back.”

“I know that,” Sarah said, her expression growing suddenly serious. “That’s not what I’m hoping for.”

“What are you hoping for?”

“That his name is cleared. That the world knows he’s not a killer, and that justice is done. I know it will never bring Richard back, but it will bring back my friends. My community. Look around you.” Sarah gestured at the empty room. “I don’t want to raise a baby like this, apart from community. I don’t want people whispering about our family, or her father. Can you imagine what that does to a little girl?”

Uh, as a matter of fact, I can.

“People will whisper about him, about us, and it’s unnecessary. Her father was a great man, and I don’t want her raised knowing only lies about him, even if it protects her.”

“Good girl!” Cate said, her heart speaking for her.

“Thank you. I don’t want my baby to grow up thinking that her father was a murderer. Or that he committed suicide. I want her to know the truth about her father, that’s the only way to truly know him. If you don’t know your own father, how can you know yourself?”

Yikes. “How did you get to be so smart?” Cate asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

And she couldn’t help but think ahead.

Cate turned up the heat on the well-behaved Acura and wound her way back through the neighborhood to City Line Avenue. She didn’t want to be persuaded by sympathy for Sarah or by any resonance in her own life, but she had to admit that she was beginning to doubt that Marz had killed Simone, then himself. She opened her cell phone and pressed in the number, warming to the familiar voice, smooth as syrup on the end of the line.

“Judge Fante’s chambers,” Val said, and Cate wanted to hug her for her loyalty.

“Keeping my name alive. Thank you, Val.”

“Judge, that you? I was so worried, after what I heard. We called the hospital up there but they said you were discharged. Aw, you okay? They said you were treated for smoke inhalation or some such.”

“I’m fine. It was nothing.”

“We’re all thinking of you. The clerks are right here, breathin’ down my neck, as usual.” Val chuckled, and the clerks shouted, “Judge, Judge!” like little kids.

Cate smiled. “Tell them I said hi.”

“She says hi, and settle down so I can hear,” Val told them. “Judge, if you’re so fine, why’d they keep you overnight? Where’re you now?”

“Coming back to the city.” The traffic light changed to green, and Cate fed the car some gas. “And how are you? How many job offers you get today?” In the background, Cate could hear the clerks yelling, “We miss you, Judge!”

Val laughed. “I don’t want to work for another judge. It’s so boring here, without you. Judge, one good thing, we only got two calls from the press, one from the Daily News and the other from the AP.”

“They’re forgetting me. Yay! Anything else I need to know?”

“No, I got it all in control.”

“What happened to Ickles v. Schrader?”

“Sherman reassigned it to Meriden.”

“Doesn’t he have a trial this week, the case pig?” Cate traveled City Line, four lanes of stop-and-go traffic.

“You got that right, but he’s trying to change his image. Today’s his birthday, and he’s taking everybody on the floor to lunch. Including me and the clerks.”

“You?” Cate almost ran a red light. “My clerks? What’s up with that?”

“I don’t want to go, but I feel like we have to, to keep up appearances.”

“You do. Go. Just don’t have fun.”

In the background, the clerks were shouting, “We’re not going!”

Cate smiled. “Tell them to go. And don’t embarrass the family.”

“Done deal. By the way, you get that mail I sent you?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“I got more here. All official, nothing personal. What was that little pink one, another prisoner letter?”