"The prosecutor doesn't have to disclose that until he decides whether to ask for the death penalty."

Mason knew that Harry was right, and decided to change subjects. Harry was true to his word. He wasn't going to tell Mason anything he didn't have to tell him. "So who drew the short straw in the prosecutor's office?"

Leonard Campbell, the prosecuting attorney, limited his court appearances to accepting high-profile plea bargains and trying cases with dead-certain guilty verdicts. He was more of a politician and bureaucrat than he was a trial lawyer. Mason assumed that he would assign one of his senior deputies to Blues's case.

"When Campbell signed the arrest warrant, he told me that he would try the case. Nobody here believes that. Campbell may decide to sit at the counsel table, but the lead guy will be Patrick Ortiz."

Mason had dealt with Ortiz several times since he had opened his own practice. Ortiz had a plodding, understated style that often lulled the defense attorney into careless mistakes. Juries responded to him, seeing him as one of them. He was a regular guy who just talked to the jury, making the complex simple, explaining why the alibi was just a lie. He had the highest conviction rate of anyone in the prosecutor's office. Most importantly from Mason's perspective, Patrick Ortiz was always the lead prosecutor in death-penalty cases.

Mason was done visiting. "I've got some other things to go over with Blues. Let me know when I can get a set of the investigative reports."

"I'll have them for you tomorrow morning," Harry said. "In the meantime, I'd like to get a blood and tissue sample from your client so we can do a DNA match with the scrapings the coroner took from Cullan's fingernails."

"Let's see how things go in the morning, Harry."

Harry said, "Today or tomorrow. It doesn't matter to me. We won't have any trouble finding your client. Just tell him that when the judge imposes a sentence, he'll ask us if Bluestone cooperated or made life difficult."

Mason was already tired of Harry's pinprick comments. "Harry, I know you've had a hard-on for Blues since the two of you were partners. Don't use this case to get even. Blues's life is on the line and you're too good of a cop to make it personal."

Harry fired back. "Is that what you think? That this is personal? Well, let me tell you something, Lou. It's damn personal! Your client killed an innocent woman six years ago and walked away. He killed Jack Cullan last Friday, and if he thinks he's walking away this time, he's wrong. Murder is about as personal as crimes get. I take it real personal that I didn't nail the son of a bitch the first time."

Harry's rant attracted the stares of the handful of detectives working at the other desks jammed onto the floor. Mason looked around the room. They all knew about Blues and Harry. Though cops never liked it when one of their own was busted, Blues was an exception. He'd crossed the line six years ago, and none of them thought of Blues as a brother behind the shield any longer. Mason suspected that they had high-fived Harry when he brought Blues in, gleefully reminding one another that paybacks are hell.

"You won't nail him this time either, Harry. I won't let you," Mason said.

Mason returned to the interrogation room, trying not to be obvious when he saw Blues rubbing the scratches on the backs of his hands. Still, the image caught Mason in mid-step.

"You don't look like a lawyer who just convinced the cops to let his client go home," Blues told him.

Mason said, "The case Harry told me he has against you doesn't worry me. It's the one he wouldn't tell me about that should worry both of us."

Blues stood and looked down at Mason. Mason had always been impressed at Blues's ability to occupy a room. Though tall and muscular, he wasn't always the biggest man, but when he was backed up, he grew a foot higher and wider with the menace he promised.

"You got something to say, Lou-just say it."

Mason let out a long breath and tossed his legal pad onto the table. "Okay. Blood and tissue were found under Cullan's fingernails. They checked the blood type against the blood type in your police department personnel file and got a match. They want a blood sample for DNA testing to positively match the blood and tissue. Harry says that none of the witnesses in the bar saw Cullan scratch your hands, but they will testify that you threatened Cullan."

"So, I'll testify," Blues said.

"You know what they call a defendant who testifies? Convict," Mason said before Blues could answer. "I told Harry that his case still sucked unless he could put you at the scene."

Blues said, "You told him his case sucked? That's strong. I'll bet he gave up right then."

"Almost. I asked him what he had, and he said it was enough for the prosecuting attorney to consider asking for the death penalty. He said you got away with murder once before and that he's not going to let you get away with it again."

Blues turned away. Mason expected the news to knock Blues back. Instead, Blues gathered himself, straining as if he would break out of the interrogation room by sheer will.

"What do you think?" Blues asked.

"I think a lot of clients hold back information from their lawyer. They want to look their best, their most innocent, especially when they're not. Shit, half of them probably undressed in the dark on their wedding nights so they wouldn't disappoint their spouse." Mason paused. "I think Harry's case sucks unless he can place you at the scene. I need to know if he can."

Blues paced once around the small room, stopping with his back to the two-way mirror, and folded his arms against his chest. "I wasn't there and I didn't kill Jack Cullan."

"I'll be sure to mention that to the judge," Mason said. "You'll be arraigned tomorrow morning in front of an Associate Circuit Court judge who will set bail. I'm guessing bail will be no less than a quarter million and maybe as much as half a million."

Blues said, "The judge won't grant me bail."

"Hey, c'mon. Give me some credit. You've got substantial ties to the community. You're not a threat to anyone else. Carlos Guiterriz will bond you out. The bar will be more than enough collateral. You'll be out by lunchtime."

"You don't get it, Lou. Charging me with murder one and threatening me with the death penalty is a power play to make me take a deal. Somebody wants me to go down for this, and keeping me in the county jail until trial will be the next card that gets played. Make an ex-cop spend the winter in the general prison population, and see how long it takes him to find religion. If I don't roll over, they hope I'll get shanked before the trial. The last thing I'll hear is, 'Enjoy your stay at the Graybar Inn.' "

"Harry wouldn't do that," Mason said, regretting the words as he spoke them.

"Oh, Harry would do it, except it's not up to Harry. He's just carrying water for the chief, or the prosecuting attorney, or whoever doesn't want my case to go to trial."

"Blues, this isn't the Conspiracy Hour. Cullan was connected to everybody in town, but he would have had to own everybody-the police, the courts, and the mayor- everybody for you to be right. Plus he's dead. All the IOUs he held have been canceled."

"How are you going to prove I'm innocent?" Blues asked.

"Find out who killed Cullan."

"You'll have to peel the layers off of Cullan's life, read every one of those IOUs."

Mason nodded, grabbing the thread that held Blues's fears together. "Cullan was probably killed by someone who wanted to cancel an IOU and won't mind if you take the fall. If Cullan owned half the people the Star claims he did, there will be plenty of pressure to keep your case from coming to trial. Otherwise, I'll hang every dirty piece of laundry I can find in front of the jury to convince them that someone else did it."