“He’ll be confined to a mental hospital. That’s not a picnic, Ben.”

“Until a team of doctors diagnose him cured.”

“It’s not as simple as that. You know the law better.” She dragged a hand through her hair. He was right, and so was she. That only made things more difficult. “You don’t lock someone up because he has cancer, because he can’t control the disintegration of his own body. How can you punish someone without taking into consideration the disintegration of his mind? Ben, schizophrenia alone disables more people for a longer time than cancer. Hundreds of thousands of people are confined to hospitals. We can’t turn our backs on them or burn them as witches because of a chemical imbalance in the brain.”

He wasn’t interested in statistics, in reasons, only in results. “You said it once, Doc-insanity’s a legal term. Crazy or not, he’s got his civil rights and he’ll be entitled to a lawyer, and his lawyer will use that legal term. I’d like to see you sit down with those three families after it’s done and talk about chemical imbalances. See if you can convince them they’ve gotten justice.”

She had counseled victims’ families before, knew too well the sense of betrayal and bitter helplessness. It was a helplessness that without control could spill over to the healer. “You’re the one with the sword, Ben, not me. I only have words.”

“Yeah.” He’d had them, too, and he’d used them in a way he wasn’t proud of. He had to get out, get home. He wished he had a brandy and a woman waiting for him. “I’m setting up an appointment with Monsignor Logan tomorrow. You’ll want to be there.”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms and wondered why a bout of temper always left her so depressed. “I have appointments all day, but I can cancel my four o’clock.”

“Not too crazy?”

Because he’d made the effort, so did she, and smiled. “We’ll let that pass.”

“I’ll see if I can schedule for four-thirty. Somebody will call you and set it up.”

“Fine.” There seemed to be nothing left to say, and perhaps more to say than either of them could deal with. “Are you sure you don’t want that coffee?”

He did, and more than that, wanted to sit with her and talk about anything other than what was bringing them together. “No, I’ve got to go. The streets are a mess already.”

“Oh?” She glanced toward the window and noticed the sleet.

“Working too hard, Doc, when you don’t see what’s out your own window.” He walked to the door. “You haven’t gotten that dead bolt.”

“No, I haven’t.”

He turned with his hand on the knob. He wanted to stay with her more than he wanted that brandy and imaginary woman. “Bogart was okay the other night?”

“Yes, Bogart was fine.”

“Maybe we should do it again sometime.”

“Maybe.”

“See you, Doc. Put on the chain.”

He pulled the door closed, but waited until he heard the rattle of the chain lock being fastened.

Ed tooled down sixteenth Street at a sedate pace. He enjoyed cruising as much-well, nearly as much-as he enjoyed sending the tires screaming. For a simple, relatively easygoing man, racing the streets in hot pursuit was a small vice.

Beside him, Ben sat in silence. Normally Ben would have had a few smart remarks to make about Ed’s driving, which was a departmental joke. The fact that Ben said nothing about it, or the Tanya Tucker tape Ed was playing, were signs that his thoughts were elsewhere. It didn’t take a mind as methodical as Ed’s to figure out where.

“Got papered on the Borelli case.” Ed listened to Tanya wail about lying and cheating, and was content.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, got mine too.”

“Looks like a couple of days in court next month. D.A. ought to nail him pretty quick.”

“He’d better. We worked our asses off to get the evidence.”

Silence trickled back like thin rain. Ed hummed along with Tanya, sang a few bars of the chorus, then hummed again. “Hear about Lowenstein’s kitchen? Her husband flooded it. Disposal went out again.”

“That’s what happens when you let an accountant go around with a wrench in his hand.” Ben took the window down an inch so the smoke would trail out when he lit a cigarette.

“That’s fifteen,” Ed said mildly. “You ain’t gonna get anywhere if you keep stewing about that press conference.”

“I’m not stewing about anything. I like to smoke.” As proof he drew deep, but resisted blowing the smoke in Ed’s direction. “It’s one of the few great pleasures of mankind.”

“Right up there with getting drunk and throwing up on your own shoes.”

“My shoes are clean, Jackson. I remember someone toppling like a goddamn redwood when he downed a half a gallon of vodka and carrot juice.”

“I was just going to take a nap.”

“Yeah, right on your face. If I hadn’t caught you-and nearly given myself a hernia in the process-you’d have broken that big nose of yours. What the hell are you smiling at?”

“If you’re bitching, you’re not feeling sorry for yourself. You know, Ben, she handled herself real good.”

“Who said she didn’t?” Ben’s teeth ground into the filter as he took another drag. “And who said I was thinking about her anyway?”

“Who?” less.

“I never mentioned her name.” Ed gunned the engine as a light turned amber, and blinked through it as it switched to red.

“Don’t play games with me, and that light was red.”

“Yellow.”

“It was red, you color-blind sonofabitch, and someone should take your license away. I take my life in my hands every time I get in the same car with you. I ought to have a suitcase full of commendations.”

“She looked good too,” Ed commented. “Great legs.”

“You’re in a rut.” He turned the heater up as the air coming in through the crack of the window cut like a knife. “Anyway, she looked as though she could freeze a man at twenty paces.”

“Clothes send out signals. Authority, indecision, composure.

Looked like she was shooting for aloof authority. Seems to me she had those reporters in hand before she opened her mouth.“

“Somebody should cancel your subscription to Reader’s Digest,” Ben muttered. The big, old trees dotting the sides of the road were at their peak of color. Leaves were soft to the touch and vibrant in reds, yellows, and oranges. In another week they would be dry, littering the sidewalks and gutters, making scratching, empty sounds as they trailed along the asphalt. Ben pushed the cigarette through the crack, then closed it tight.

“Okay, so she handled herself. Problem is, the press is going to have this meat to chew over for days. Media has a way of bringing out the loonies.” He looked at the old sedate buildings behind the old sedate trees. They were the kind of buildings she belonged in. The kind he was used to seeing from the outside. “And damn it, she does have great legs.”

“Smart too. A man sure can admire a woman’s mind.”

“What do you know about a woman’s mind? The last one you dated had the IQ of a soft-boiled egg. And what is this crap we’re listening to?”

Ed smiled, pleased to have his partner back on track. “Tanya Tucker.”

“Jesus.” Ben slid down in the seat and closed his eyes.

You seem to feel much better today, Mrs. Halderman.“

“Oh, I do. I really do.” The dark, pretty woman didn’t lie on the couch or sit in a chair, but almost danced around Tess’s office. She tossed a sable coat over the arm of a chair and posed. “What do you think of my new dress?”

“It’s very becoming.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mrs. Halderman ran a hand over the thin, silk-lined wool. “Red is so eye-catching. I do love to be noticed.”

“You’ve been shopping again, Mrs. Halderman?”

“Yes.” She beamed, then her pretty, china doll face drew into a pout. “Oh, don’t be annoyed, Dr. Court. I know you said maybe I should stay away from the stores for a little while. And I did really. I hadn’t been to Neiman’s for almost a week.“