Bennie sat across from Officers Villarreal and Dayne in a clean, brightly lit interview room that smelled of fresh paint, evidently, white. There was no window, and the carpet was thin, brown, and all-purpose. Modern, if mismatched, chairs held the cops, and Bennie was behind a plain wooden desk, its surface uncluttered except for a telephone and a stack of blank statement forms. Oddly, she felt as if she were a CEO, not a suspect, and in some parallel universe of her own office.

“I had nothing to do with the fire,” Bennie was saying. She could see they doubted her, but she wasn’t intimidated. Nothing could intimidate her, after the box. She felt stronger than ever before. “Think about it. I was in the hospital at the time.”

Officer Villarreal scoffed. “We don’t know for sure what time the fire started, yet. As best the Chief can tell, it started last night, sometime after you were picked up.”

“If it started after I was picked up, I didn’t start it.”

“That’s not necessarily true. The fire started with an accelerant, but we don’t know what kind yet. Depending on how the fire was set and how fast it spread, the Chief told us it wouldn’t have gotten into high gear until two or three hours after you were gone. There’s nobody living around there, so nobody could see when it started. Nobody noticed it until it was blazing, full-blast. You could have set that fire.”

Officer Dayne leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and saying nothing, but Bennie wasn’t talking to him, anyway.

“Look, I gave you a reasonable explanation for the fire. My sister started it to destroy the evidence of the box. Why would I start a fire? What possible reason would I have?”

“Why were you drinking?”

“I told you, I wasn’t. The farmer gave me the liquor.” Bennie gestured at the telephone with her good hand. “Call him and ask him why he lied. I don’t know why he lied, but he did.”

“I know Bradley and his wife, June. They’ve lived here forever, his father farmed the same land. My parents know them, too. They’re not the type of people to go around lying on other people.”

Bennie thought a minute. “Did you interview him, personally?”

“Yes.”

“With his wife?”

“No. Bradley was in the living room, June was in the kitchen.”

“Could she hear you two, talking?”

“I suppose so.”

“So Bradley didn’t want to tell the truth in front of his wife. He didn’t want to say that he gave some strange woman, who was half-naked, a flask of whiskey. He didn’t want to admit, to a couple of cops whose parents are friends of his, that he drinks and drives, or that he drinks at all. Maybe he has a drinking problem, he’s trying to quit, you don’t know.” Bennie pointed to the phone. “Call the Philadelphia police, the Homicide Squad. I know two of the detectives, Azzic and Holland. They were involved with my sister’s trial and they’ll tell you all about her. She’s the one you should be worried about, not me. She’s the one you should be questioning, not me. Please, call the Roundhouse.”

“I’m not calling the Philly cops.”

“Do it, or I will.” Bennie reached for the phone, but Officer Villarreal beat her to it, picking up the receiver.

“Fine. Good. You want me to call, we’ll call.” Officer Villarreal called information, reached the Homicide Division, and introduced himself. “I’m out here in Cambridge County and I wanted to talk to a Detective Azzic or Holland. Huh? They’re on vacation?”

Bennie rose. “Then ask for the inspector or the deputy inspector. Tell them it’s me.”

Officer Villarreal said into the telephone, “Can I talk to the inspector or the deputy inspector? I’ll hold, thanks.”

“I want this on speaker.” Bennie leaned over, pressed a button on the phone, and walked around the desk as the call went live.

“Deputy Inspector Johnson,” said a voice Bennie didn’t recognize, but she wasn’t deterred.

“Deputy Johnson, this is Bennie Rosato, a lawyer in town. We haven’t met.”

“No, I started last month. Relocated from the department in Milwaukee.”

“I’m a well-known lawyer, and I have a twin sister named Alice Connelly, whom I represented in a murder trial. Detectives Azzic and Holland worked the case, and they could give you the background. Are they in?”

“No. They’re on vacation until after Labor Day.”

“Can they be reached?”

“Don’t know. Why, what’s this about?”

“On Friday night, my sister drugged me and buried me alive, trying to kill me.”

“Excuse me?”

Officer Villarreal interjected, “Deputy, we’re trying to get to the bottom of this. We’re out in Cambridge County and we picked up Ms. Rosato, who seemed to think you could verify her bona fides.”

Bennie interrupted, “The issue is that we need to find Alice Connelly. She could be anywhere at this point. She’s guilty of attempted murder and grand larceny, because she also stole my car. She even set a fire out here, to destroy the evidence.”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, not at all,” Bennie shot back. “I’m being questioned in connection with a crime I didn’t commit while a killer goes free. I can’t seem to convince anybody out here that Alice Connelly is worth investigating, so it made sense to call you.”

Officer Villarreal turned, angrily. “We’re investigating, Ms. Rosato. We may not be big-time, but we manage. Why do you think I’m making this phone call? Why do you think I took the wineglasses? Why do you think we drove you all over Creation?”

“You’re accusing me of setting a fire. You’re investigating a fire, not attempted murder.”

“That fire caused major loss of property and damage to-”

“Folks?” On the speakerphone, Deputy Johnson cleared his throat. “Excuse me, can I break in? Ms. Rosato, you say that this woman tried to kill you by burying you alive. Where did this take place?”

“In a field, in Cambridge County.”

“Well, if you’re a lawyer, you would know that the Philadelphia police have no jurisdiction over an attempted murder in Cambridge County. Our jurisdiction ends at the city line.”

“I know you don’t have jurisdiction, but I’m out here with no way to convince these people that I’m not spinning stories. That’s why it’s important to try and reach Detectives Azzic or Holland, even on vacation. They won’t mind. In fact, they’d be angry if I didn’t. If you call them and tell them to find Alice, they’ll be all over it.”

“Even so, your friendship with two detectives doesn’t confer jurisdiction on your case.” Deputy Johnson paused. “Ms. Rosato, if you were attacked in Cambridge County, the local constabulary is who you need to be talking to. Thanks very much for your call. Take care, all.”

“Thank you, Deputy Johnson,” Officer Villarreal said, hanging up. He turned to Bennie, his jaw set. “I don’t agree with your saying we’re not investigating. We are investigating. Part of your story rings true, but some of it stinks to high heaven.”

Officer Dayne stood up, his eyes narrowing. “Cut the crap, Ms. Rosato. You were found drunk in a hay field that burned up the next day. You set that fire. Maybe you did it for kicks, you’re a pyro, you got problems, I don’t know. Or maybe you and somebody else partied too hard and sparked it, by accident. It would be easy, with a cigarette and a bottle of whiskey.”

Bennie looked from one cop to the other. She actually understood their position. They weren’t going to help her, and neither were the Philly cops. She was on her own. She’d hunt down Alice herself. She went to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Officer Villarreal asked, frowning.

“You don’t have enough to charge me on this fire. You have no evidence that I committed a crime.”

“We will when the Chief completes his investigation, in a day or two.”

“You won’t know if he finds a burned-up box out there, either. Not for a day or two.”