Until she did. And then he was alone again.

And maybe five minutes after that, he started kinda sorta wishing Christina was still around.

This wasn’t the first time this had occurred. Christina was such a vibrant, vivacious, unstoppable force that he supposed it was only natural she would leave a gaping hole in her wake. But she had other fish to fry-friends, colleagues, social groups. And he had… he had…

A cat, Giselle reminded him, as she shoved her black furry nose in his face. He had an overweight, utterly indulged cat. And he only had the cat because Christina gave her to him and insisted that he keep her.

And beyond that? he wondered, as he stroked Giselle’s soft silky fur. He had friends, of course. A few, anyway. Colleagues. He had a mother on the other side of the state. He had a sister so estranged he didn’t even know where she lived. And a nephew he hadn’t seen in months and months.

In the course of his many years on his own in Tulsa, he had managed, slowly but surely, to teach himself to be a decent lawyer. He had even managed to learn to get tough and forceful when necessary. But he hadn’t learned how to be… friendly. He was awkward in social situations. He could barely speak to strangers. He froze up at parties. In his heart of hearts, he was still the bespectacled ten-year-old geek with a speech impediment no one wanted to play with. Or so he saw himself, anyway.

He heard a scritch-scratch sound coming from the vicinity of the front door. He craned his neck in time to see a white envelope slide under the door.

He jumped up, sending Giselle flying off his lap. He scooped up the envelope. It had to be a rent check. Yes! Glory hallelujah!

He flung the door open. A tall woman in her fifties was quietly creeping down the stairs.

“Joyce!”

Joni and Jami’s mother slowly pivoted. “Oh… hello, Ben. I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Not at all.” He glanced down at the envelope and grinned. “Believe me, receiving rent money is never a disturbance. Especially after all the unexpected maintenance expenses we’ve had this month.”

“Ye-es,” she said slowly. “I was pleased to see the central heating back.”

“You and me both. Would you like to come in for a moment?”

“Uh-oh-my-” She couldn’t have acted more awkward if he’d asked her to strip off her clothes and perform the dance of the seven veils. “I-no-the girls-”

“Sure, I understand. Well, I really appreciate this.”

“Ye-es.” She took a short step backwards down the stairs.

“I mean, another day or two and I would’ve had to mention it to you, and I just hate that. The worst part of being a landlord is hassling people for the rent money.”

“I’m sure.”

“It’s a real relief to not have to do that, you know?”

“Ben…”

“Yes?” Something about her expression finally tipped him off that all was not as he supposed. He took a closer look at the envelope, then opened it.

There was not a check inside. It was a note written in an awkward block-letter scrawl. SORRY, CAN’T MAKE ENDS MEET. WILL GET YOU NEXT MONTH. JOYCE.

Ben slid the note back inside the envelope.

“I really meant to pay you this month,” Mrs. Singleton said. She was speaking much more quietly than before. “But with Jack gone and Joni in college-I can’t tell you what a strain it’s been.”

“I thought we had your finances straightened out. You had a budget.”

“We did. But then Jami wanted to get her teeth whitened, and Joni needed these expensive textbooks for some class she’s taking, and the boys need school clothes, and-” She tossed her head from side to side, seeping embarrassment and pain like water from a sponge. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Ben took a step forward. “You did the right thing, Joyce.”

“I know we owe you money. You’ve been so good about letting us stay even though we haven’t made a rent payment in, what, four months now? And I-”

Ben cut her off, hoping to minimize the pain. “You take care of your family, Joyce. That’s your first priority.”

“But the rent-”

“You’ll catch me next month.”

“But-”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll catch me next month.”

“Thank you.” She turned away, then all at once turned back, leaned forward, and kissed Ben on the cheek. Then she scurried down the stairs.

Ben reentered his apartment and closed the door behind him. Well, he’d just have to find another way to pay the bills, that was all. True, the repairs had way overextended his budget, but maybe if he cut back to the bare essentials and didn’t-

He felt something warm and wet and furry tickling his ankles.

Giselle? Meeting him at the door? Now this was a first.

He stretched out his arms and, a second later, Giselle jumped into them. Ben pulled her close, scrunching her up against his face.

Why, you old sweetie, he thought as he rubbed his nose against hers. You do love me, after all.

He smiled, then made his way toward the kitchen. As long as I feed you, anyway.

When Ben entered Antony Canelli’s closet of an office on the fourth floor, he found the assistant DA behind his desk kneeling, prostrate against the desk.

“Praying?” Ben asked. “I’ve heard the thought of going up against me in court strikes terror in the hearts of DAs, but I hadn’t realized it was enough to drive them to religion.”

“Ha ha,” Canelli said, looking up. “I dropped a pencil.” He was a tall man, six foot four, which made him almost a foot taller than Ben. He was buff and muscular and exceedingly handsome-professional-model handsome. “Don’t worry about driving me to religion. Sister Mary Theresa and twelve years of Catholic school beat you to the punch.”

“Mind if we talk about the Beale case?”

“Is there any point?” He glanced at his watch. “The arraignment’s in fifteen minutes. Once your boy gets denied bail and pleads we’ll have a better idea where we are.”

“That’s what I’d like to avoid.” Ben plopped himself down in the nearest available chair. He hadn’t been invited to do so, but in his experience, DAs rarely invited defense lawyers to get comfortable. Might be bad for their reputations. “If we go to arraignment, there’s going to be an enormous amount of publicity. Which is going to make you look really lame when you lose. You know your case is weak. Cut Father Beale loose now before you get embarrassed.”

“Our case is weak? You must be kidding. Our case is sensational.”

Ben waved a hand in the air. “I know about the fingerprints. It isn’t conclusive.”

“How’d you find out about that? You been talking to your brother-in-law?”

“Ex.”

“Lemme tell you, Kincaid-the fingerprint evidence is just the tip of the iceberg. It’s good, but possibly not good enough to get a conviction. Happily, we’ve got much much more.”

Ben felt a gnawing in his chest. “Like what?”

“Hmm, let me see, I’m thinking back to law school.” He tapped the side of his face with a finger. “Do I have to tell you everything I know before the arraignment? Wait-no! There’s not a case yet. After the arraignment, after you file your motions, then, maybe-”

“Give me a break, Canelli.”

“Why not? I got a memo from the boss just the other day saying, ‘Tony, start giving the defense attorneys a break, okay?’ ” He gave Ben a long look.

“Have I mentioned that I find this new predilection for sarcasm most unbecoming?”

Canelli pressed a hand against his heart. “You have no idea how much that wounds me. I live for your approval.”

“C’mon. At least give me a hint.”

“A hint? Fine. Be sure to ask to see all trace evidence discovered on the body. You’ll be glad you did.”

“I would’ve asked for that anyway.”

“I know. Why else would I tell you? And be sure to check the witness list, especially the long parade of folks who saw your boy threaten the last victim. And the veritable horde who saw him stumbling around with blood on his hands.”