“It’s not,” Sara said, stepping between the two men. “Conrad, back off. Jared, we’ll discuss this later.”

“Whatever you want,” Jared said, still staring at Conrad. “Give me a call when you’re ready.” Motioning to Conrad, he added, “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Conrad said coldly.

As Jared and Kozlow walked out of the courtroom, Sara looked at Conrad. “What was that about?”

“I just didn’t want to see him walk all over you,” Conrad said, packing up his briefcase.

“I appreciate the concern, but I can handle my husband just fine.”

“I’m sure you can, but-”

“There is no but,” Sara interrupted. “I may be new, and I may still be learning, but I’m not a lightweight. The only reason I let him broach the subject of the autopsy was because I wanted to see how much he knew. Jared’s got a great information network and I want to know where it starts. So stop thinking you can swing in on a vine and save me from the bad guys.”

“Sara, just so you know: Not once, ever, have I thought you were a lightweight.”

Caught off guard by the compliment, Sara took a second to respond. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything. That’s just how I feel.”

“Then don’t treat me like a novice. I finally know what I’m doing with this one.”

“So I guess you didn’t need me to stand in for you today? You had the whole thing covered yourself, right?”

Sara had to grin. “C’mon, don’t go mucking up my impassioned arguments with some lame logical flaw,” she joked. “I know I needed you to stand in for me. I just-”

“I get the picture – he’s your husband, so you’re the only one who can pick on him. Now can we get out of here? You have a trial to prepare for.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah – we all can’t wait for the trial,” Guff said as they walked out of the courtroom. “Now tell us about the autopsy. Did you puke all over yourself, or were you able to hold it together?”

Looking over Guff’s shoulder, Sara saw that Jared and Kozlow were still lingering in the hallway. “Not here,” she said. “Wait until we get back to the office.”

After returning to 80 Centre, Sara spent the next forty-five minutes relaying the findings of the medical examiner’s autopsy. She told them about the fluid in Arnold Doniger’s eye and the lack of food in his stomach. She told them that he could’ve been killed by a forced injection by a third party, or he might have accidentally given the injection to himself. Slowly and methodically, Sara explained all the details, trying her best not to sway her colleagues’ opinions. If they were going to be convinced it was murder, she wanted them to reach that conclusion themselves.

When she was done explaining, Conrad said, “So his stomach was completely empty?”

Sara nodded.

“Then she couldn’t have given him anything to eat,” Conrad continued. “Even if everything else can be logically explained, Claire lied to our faces.”

“That’s what did it for me,” Sara added. “You can’t ignore that fact.”

“And if it’s a murder, that also tells us why almost nothing was taken during the burglary,” Guff said.

“It all fits,” she said. “Every single piece of it.” Looking at Conrad, she added, “So be honest: What do you think?”

At first, Conrad was silent. Eventually, he said, “Sounds to me like you might be able to upgrade this case to a homicide. Nice going.”

“Yeah?” Sara asked, her voice rising. Unable to hide her excitement, she beamed with delight. For the first time since Pop went into the hospital, she saw the path for saving Jared.

“Between Claire and Kozlow, we’ve got too many fishy actions in too short a time span,” Conrad said.

“Oh, man, I can’t believe it,” Sara said, pounding her desk. “I knew this case had something to it. Now who do we charge with murder? Both of them or just one?”

“You tell me. Who do you think is the killer?”

“I think Claire is full of crap, but I don’t think she’s the one who did the deed. My guess is she hired Kozlow to give the injection.”

“And maybe the so-called stolen watch and golf ball were payment for the kill,” Guff added. “If we check Claire’s bank accounts, we’ll be able to see if she was out of cash or not.”

“Great. Perfect. Let’s get those as soon as possible,” Sara said. “I don’t want to waste any time with this.” Turning to Conrad, she asked, “What else can we do?”

“If I were you, before I filed new charges, I’d do some more research. You have the how, but to make a good murder case, you need to know the why. Look into Claire Doniger’s cash flow, check out Arnold Doniger’s will, find anything you can that would suggest a motive. And when you have that, file new charges with a new complaint and rearrest the party you want to charge. You have a lot of work ahead of you, but you’re well on your way.” Conrad stood and walked to the door. “Meanwhile, I hate to run, but I really have to get back to my work for a change. Keep me informed about what you find.”

“You can count on that,” Sara said. “And thanks again for filling in for me today – you have no idea how much that meant to me. Really. Thank you. For everything.”

“Anytime,” Conrad said.

As Conrad left, Guff watched his boss. She was already feverishly writing up a to-do list. “Don’t worry,” Guff said. “We’re going to be able to save him.”

“Only if we’re organized. That’s the only way to beat him.” Seeing that Conrad was gone, Sara carefully picked up her briefcase and set it down on her desk in front of Guff. “Can you take this down and have it fingerprinted for me?”

“Why?” Guff asked.

“Because when I was rushing to get to court on time, I was lucky enough to once again meet up with Sunken Cheeks.”

“He was in the courthouse?”

“Spying on me,” Sara said. “And since we still don’t know who he is, I did the only thing I could think of – I swung my briefcase at him, hoping he would catch it.”

“So now you have the fingerprints on this bad boy?” Guff asked. When Sara nodded, he added, “You’re one sneaky son of a bitch, y’know that?”

“I try,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “And you, Mr. Guff – thanks again for saving my butt.”

“It was nothing. To be honest, Conrad was dying to fill in. And watching him confront Jared was well worth the price of admission.”

“I still don’t understand why he did that.”

“What’s to understand? He’s got the hots for you.”

“Oh, please. Conrad’s got no hots.”

“Sara, through poor planning and bad timing, you almost missed today’s arraignment. You didn’t call to make sure you were covered, you didn’t have anyone to back you up, you just plain missed it. And what was Conrad’s reaction? Did he ream you? No. Did he make the big vein appear on his forehead? No. Instead, he said, ‘Oh, I’ll cover for her – no big deal.’ Anyone else he would’ve slaughtered. But you, he covers.”

“Maybe he’s just calming down as he gets older.”

“Conrad’ll never calm down. We’re talking about a man who, even when he stays in a hotel, makes his own bed. That’s the person you think is calming down? The only reason he got in Jared’s face is because he’s got the hots for you.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it,” Sara said. “He was just doing me a favor.”

Later that evening, Jared took a cab across town to the Upper East Side. Amid the designer boutiques and stylish storefront cafés that lined Madison Avenue was the home office of Lenny Barrow. Located on Madison and East Sixty-fifth Street, above a boutique that sold overpriced children’s clothes, was a sign that read SURE YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS? LEONARD BARROW – PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. Entering through a narrow doorway next to the clothing store, Jared walked upstairs and knocked on Barrow’s door.

Barrow greeted him wearing a sport coat and a tie. “What’re you so dressed up for?” Jared asked.