"Not yet. Her mom is dead, her dad was murdered, and her brother is a suspect. I'd say she's scared."

Mike squeezed her arm. "You thought you could handle this on your own? Pretending you couldn't speak? How long did you think you could pull that off?"

April shook her head. "I was just helping out an old friend."

"That's what you always say. You have no idea what's going on here." He glanced back toward the house.

No, she didn't know what was going on. She changed the subject. "Why isn't Bernardino getting a full police funeral?"

"He isn't?" At this Mike registered surprise.

"Kathy's pretty upset about it. I would be, too. Thirty-eight years on the job. Lieutenant murdered on a city street…" April shook her head. "What's the reasoning behind it?"

"I don't know. This is the first I've heard about it."

"Well, I'm going in to talk to her."

Mike glanced at his watch. "I thought we settled this already."

"It's not a problem. I'm taking sick leave." She gave him a mischievous smile, feeling better in his presence.

"Oh, please." He snorted through his mustache.

"I am."

"Fine, if you're taking sick leave, you've got to stay out of sight. Get in bed. Don't attend the funeral. These are the conditions."

" 'Oh, please' yourself. The picture's changed. You need me."

"We got a lot of people on this case. What's so special about you?" But he said this with a smile, already opening the door a crack.

April walked through it and felt the fog of Wednesday roll back in on her. "What's special about me, chico ," she said in her chalk-on-the-board voice, "is that I don't make the answers up."

He laughed. Like he made them up. "Well, I guess you're feeling better."

"Look, Bernardino has to have a full department funeral. Bagpipes and everything. Tell Avise it would be a scandal not to. He has the muscle to get it done."

"I don't know what's up with that," Mike murmured, checking his back.

"Well, find out what's up with it. You're one of them now. The whole city is watching here. Don't let them act like asses just because they don't know the whole story. Okay?"

He didn't say anything, but she could read agreement in his eyes.

"I'll see you later, boss." She took his hand and shook it, rubbing his palm briefly with her thumb. "Nice working with you. By the way, where are you keeping the file, the Sixth?"

"Anybody ever tell you you're a piece of work?" Mike said.

"Nope." She let go of the hand and picked her way across the patio to the kitchen door.

Kathy was sitting at the counter. Mike followed April in, got the water he'd come in for, and disappeared without a word. Okay, it was up to her to get a few things clarified. April filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil.

"I hope you have tea. I need it," she said.

"Oh, Jesus, what a voice," Kathy remarked.

"At least I have one." April sat on the other stool.

"Thanks for coming." Kathy looked pretty dispirited.

"No problem. I'm not officially on the case."

"Can you stop them from tearing up the place? Baboons."

"Nope. I warned you. Look, Kathy, when we talked yesterday you didn't really answer my questions about your dad's lottery money."

Kathy brushed her hair away from her face, looking fifteen years older than yesterday. "Is this an interview?"

"Very informal. No tape recorders, no cameras, no lie detectors at this time. As I said, I'm not officially on the case. We're just talking, okay? I want to help you."

"Jesus, don't creep me out. No one ever helps anyone."

"Try me. What about the money?"

"Dad said he'd let me know when he got it. As far as I knew, he hadn't gotten it yet. What happens now?"

"Oh, come on, Kathy, you expect me to believe that a dad who told you everything didn't tell you that he got a check for fifteen million dollars before your mother even passed on and he cashed some of it in even before the funeral?"

"What?" Kathy's whole body jolted with shock. It didn't look like an act.

"We have the time frames on his deposits and withdrawals. You didn't go through his files and find them?" April studied her. She must be a pretty lousy special agent.

"I did check," Kathy said slowly. "The recent statements aren't here." She passed a hand over her brow. "And the house was a mess. It looked to me like he was falling apart. That's how I saw it."

"You didn't have any suspicions that all was not right here?"

"I don't know what you mean." Kathy looked out the window.

"That something was out of whack. That nobody was talking about the elephant in the living room."

"I told you. Dad wasn't interested in money. He didn't like people chasing him around the block trying to get it. He wanted to run away from that."

"And he was a brick wall when he wanted to be," April added.

"Yeah," Kathy admitted. "He was a brick wall on certain subjects."

"Is that the reason you didn't come to his retirement party? Because he was holding out on you?" April rasped out.

"No! I was working a case. My supervisor wouldn't give me any more time off. I'll give you his number. You can ask the bastard yourself."

The front doorbell and telephone rang at the same time. They rang and rang. Nobody made a move to answer them.

"So, did you talk to Bill about the money?" April asked.

The wall phone had no caller ID. Kathy waited for it to stop ringing before she responded. "When?"

"Before Wednesday." April's face was empty of emotion. She didn't want to say "before the murder."

Then the kettle began to sing. This got Kathy up. Miss Hospitality. "What kind of tea do you want?"

"Whatever you have is fine."

"Mom liked chamomile." Kathy searched around in a cupboard for it.

"Chamomile is good."

Kathy fussed with a mug and tea bag. "Sorry, I don't have any cookies."

"Tea is fine." April took the mug and put her nose into the steam. Hot was best, but she'd wait this time.

Outside the kitchen, they could hear the noise of men going through the house, talking to each other from different rooms, not making any effort to be quiet or show respect. April guessed there were three or four of them, and Mike was one of them. They were still working the upstairs, hadn't gotten to the basement yet. The doorbell rang again. Nobody answered it.

"Let's get back to the money. How were you and Bill handling it between the two of you?"

Kathy pressed her lips into a thin line. "We didn't talk about it."

"Gee, Kathy, this is hard to believe. If my dad got fifteen million dollars, I'd have an interest in it."

"I never said I wasn't interested. I said we didn't talk about it. You don't get it, do you?"

"No, Kathy, I don't get it. None of this is playing for me. Why don't you help me out?"

"Look, just don't patronize me. Mom died. We were dealing with that, okay? The money was a perk we didn't want to mix up with grieving. Like, Mom died, but hooray, we're rich. That may not make any sense to you. But that's how it was with us."

"That's what you thought." But that was exactly how it wasn't. April sipped the chamomile. By now she was wishing for that cookie. For a whole plate of cookies, but she never ate when she questioned. Kathy clammed up.

"Looks like you weren't in the loop. Your dad was cashing in the money big before he died. Four million of it. You said he thought of the money as yours…" She watched Kathy register betrayal.

The doorbell rang again. A look of irritation crossed Kathy's face. She licked her lips. "Where's the money?" she croaked out in a voice almost as fractured as April's.

"That's what I'm asking you."

Kathy shook her head. "I don't get it." But her face said she did.

"So what about Bill? Does he need money?"