"That's correct."

"Dr. Kane, I'm going to show you the official hospital death form signed by Dr. Taylor." He picked up a paper and handed it to Kane. "Would you read it aloud, please?"

Kane began to read. "John Cronin. Cause of Death: Respiratory arrest occurred as a complication of myocardial infarction occurring as a complication of pulmonary embolus.' "

"And in layman's language?"

"The report says that the patient died of a heart attack."

"And that paper is signed by Dr. Taylor?"

"Yes."

"Dr. Kane, was that the true cause of John Cronin's death?"

"No. The insulin injection caused his death."

"So, Dr. Taylor administered a fatal dose of insulin and then falsified the report?"

"Yes."

"And you reported it to Dr. Wallace, the hospital administrator, who then reported it to the authorities?"

"Yes. I felt it was my duty." His voice rang with righteous indignation. "I'm a doctor. I don't believe in taking the life of another human being under any circumstances."

The next witness called was John Cronin's widow. Hazel Cronin was in her late thirties, with flaming red hair, and a voluptuous figure that her plain black dress failed to conceal.

Gus Venable said, "I know how painful this is for you, Mrs. Cronin, but I must ask you to describe to the jury your relationship with your late husband."

The widow Cronin dabbed at her eyes with a large lace handkerchief. "John and I had a loving marriage. He was a wonderful man. He often told me I had brought him the only real happiness he had ever known."

"How long were you married to John Cronin?"

"Two years, but John always said it was like two years in heaven."

"Mrs. Cronin, did your husband ever discuss Dr. Taylor with you? Tell you what a great doctor he thought she was? Or how helpful she had been to him? Or how much he liked her?"

"He never mentioned her."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Did John ever discuss cutting you and your brothers out of his will? '

"Absolutely not. He was the most generous man in the world. He always told me that there was nothing I couldn't have, and that when he died ..." Her voice broke. "... that when he died, I would be a wealthy woman, and ..." She could not go on.

Judge Young said, "We'll have a fifteen-minute recess."

Seated in the back of the courtroom, Jason Curtis was filled with anger. He could not believe what the witnesses were saying about Paige. This is the woman I love, he thought. The woman I'm going to marry.

Immediately after Paige's arrest, Jason Curtis had gone to visit her in jail.

"We'll fight this," he assured her. "I'll get you the best criminal lawyer in the country." A name immediately sprang to mind. Alan Penn. Jason had gone to see him.

"I've been following the case in the papers," Penn said. "The press has already tried and convicted her of murdering John Cronin for a bundle. What's more, she admits she killed him."

"I know her," Jason Curtis told him. "Believe me, there's no way Paige could have done what she did for money."

"Since she admits she killed him," Penn said, "what we're dealing with here then is euthanasia. Mercy killings are against the law in California, as in most states, but there are a lot of mixed feelings about them. I can make a pretty good case for Florence Nightingale listening to a Higher Voice and all that shit, but the problem is that your lady love killed a patient who left her a million dollars in his will. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Did she know about the million before she killed him, or after?"

"Paige didn't know a thing about the money," Jason said firmly.

Penn's tone was noncommittal. "Right. It was just a happy coincidence. The DA is calling for Murder One, and he wants the death penalty."

"Will you take the case?"

Penn hesitated. It was obvious that Jason Curtis believed in Dr. Taylor. The way Samson believed in Delilah. He looked at Jason and thought: I wonder if the poor son of a bitch had a haircut and doesn't know it.

Jason was waiting for an answer.

"I'll take the case, as long as you know it's all uphill. It's going to be a tough one to win."

Alan Penn's statement turned out to be overly optimistic.

When the trial resumed the following morning, Gus Venable called a string of new witnesses.

A nurse was on the stand. "I heard John Cronin say, 'I know I'll die on the operating table. You're going to kill me. I hope they get you for murder.' "

An attorney, Roderick Pelham, was on the stand. Gus Venable said, "When you told Dr. Taylor about the million dollars from John Cronin's estate, what did she say?"

"She said something like 'It seems unethical. He was my patient.' "

"She admitted it was unethical?"

"Yes."

"But she agreed to take the money?"

"Oh, yes. Absolutely."

Alan Penn was cross-examining.

"Mr. Pelham, was Dr. Taylor expecting your visit?"

"Why, no, I . . ."

"You didn't call her and say, 'John Cronin left you one million dollars'?"

"No. I ..."

"So when you told her, you were actually face-to-face with her?"

"Yes."

"In a position to see her reaction to the news?"

"Yes."

"And when you told her about the money, how did she react?"

"Well—she—she seemed surprised, but ..." "Thank you, Mr. Pelham. That's all."

The trial was now in its fourth week. The spectators and press had found the prosecuting attorney and defense attorney fascinating to watch. Gus Venable was dressed in white and Alan Penn in black, and the two of them had moved around the courtroom like players in a deadly, choreographed game of chess, with Paige Taylor the sacrificial pawn.

Gus Venable was tying up the loose ends.

"If the court please, I would like to call Alma Rogers to the witness stand."

When his witness was sworn in, Venable said, "Mrs. Rogers, what is your occupation?"

"It's Miss Rogers."

"I do beg your pardon."

"I work at the Corniche Travel Agency."

"Your agency books tours to various countries and makes hotel reservations and handles other accommoda-i tions for your clients?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want you to take a look at the defendant. Have you ever seen her before?"

"Oh, yes. She came into our travel agency two or three years ago."

"And what did she want?"

"She said she was interested in a trip to London and Paris and, I believe, Venice."

"Did she ask about package tours?"

"Oh, no. She said she wanted everything first class— plane, hotel. And I believe she was interested in chartering a yacht."

The courtroom was hushed. Gus Venable walked over to the prosecutor's table and held up some folders. "The police found these brochures in Dr. Taylor's apartment. These are travel itineraries to Paris and London and Venice, brochures for expensive hotels and airlines, and one listing the cost of chartering a private yacht."

There was a loud murmur from the courtroom.

The prosecutor had opened one of the brochures.

"Here are some of the yachts listed for charter," he read aloud. "The Christina O . . . twenty-six thousand dollars a week plus ship's expenses ... the Resolute Time, twenty-four thousand five hundred dollars a week ... the Lucky Dream, twenty-seven thousand three hundred dollars a week." He looked up. "There's a check mark after the Lucky Dream. Paige Taylor had already selected the twenty-seven-thousand-three-hun-dred-a-week yacht. She just hadn't selected her victim yet.

"We'd like to have these marked Exhibit A." Venable turned to Alan Penn and smiled. Alan Penn looked at Paige. She was staring down at the table, her face pale. "Your witness."

Penn rose to his feet, stalling, thinking fast.

"How is the travel business these days, Miss Rogers?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I asked how business was. Is Corniche a large travel agency?"

"It's quite large, yes."

"I imagine a lot of people come in to inquire about trips."

"Oh, yes."

"Would you say five or six people a day?"

"Oh, no!" Her voice was indignant. "We talk to as many as fifty people a day about travel arrangements."

"Fifty people a day?" He sounded impressed. "And the day we're talking about was two or three years ago. If you multiply fifty by nine hundred days, that's roughly forty-five thousand people."

"I suppose so."

"And yet, out of all those people, you remembered Dr. Taylor. Why is that?"

"Well, she and her two friends were so excited about taking a trip to Europe. I thought it was lovely. They were like schoolgirls. Oh, yes. I remember them very clearly, particularly because they didn't look like they could afford a yacht."

"I see. I suppose everyone who comes in and asks for a brochure goes away on a trip?"

"Well, of course not. But—"

"Dr. Taylor didn't actually book a trip, did she?"

"Well, no. Not with us. She-—"

"Nor with anyone else. She merely asked to see some brochures."

"Yes. She—"

"That's not the same as going to Paris or London, is it?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Thank you. You may step down."

Venable turned to Judge Young. "I would like to call Dr. Benjamin Wallace to the stand. ..."

"Dr. Wallace, you're in charge of administration at Embarcadero County Hospital?"

"Yes."

"So, of course, you're familiar with Dr. Taylor and her work?"

"Yes, I am."

"Were you surprised to learn that Dr. Taylor was indicted for murder?"

Penn was on his feet. "Objection, your honor. Dr. Wallace's answer would be irrelevant."

"If I may explain," interrupted Venable. "It could be very relevant if you'll just let me ..."

"Well, let's see what develops," said Judge Young. "But no nonsense, Mr. Venable."