"Do you believe her about her husband being faithful?"

"I have no reason not to believe," he said cautiously i've never heard even a whisper of gossip about them," Monica said. "Things like that usually get out-one way or another."

"I suppose so. But I think Diane Ellerbee is a very complex woman. She's going to take a lot of study."

"You don't suspect her, do you, Edward?"

He sighed. "Oh, hell-I suspect everyone. You know I go by percentages, and most homicides are committed by relatives or close friends. So, sure the widow has got to be a suspect. But up to now, I admit, there isn't an iota of evidence to make me doubt her innocence. Well, we're just beginning."

He helped Monica clean up and put the dishes in the washer. Then he went into the study, poured himself a small Rdmy, and put on his reading glasses. He wrote out a complete report of the interrogation of Dr.

Diane Ellerbee and slid it into the file folder neatly labeled with her name.

He was interrupted twice. The first phone call came from Boone, who said that he had made an appointment with Samuelson for 7:00 A.M. the following morning.

"Seven o'clock! I'm just dragging myself out of bed at that hour."

"Me, too," Boone said mournfully. "But these psychiatrists apparently start the day early-to take patients before they go off to work."

"Well, all right, we'll make it at seven. What's the address?"

The second call was from Jason, who had just returned to the city from Brewster.

"No ball peen hammer, sir," he reported. "The handyman says he doesn't own one and never has. I think he's telling the truth."

"Probably," Delaney agreed. "It was just a gamble and had to be checked out."

"And the victim wasn't very mechanical," Jason went on.

"He owned maybe a tack hammer and a screwdriver-fiveand-ten tools like that.

Whenever any repairs had to be done, even like changing a washer, the caretaker was called in."

"You got to see the house?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Not as big as I thought it would be, but really beautiful. Even with all the trees bare, you can imagine what that place must look like in spring and summer. Plenty of land with a sweet little brook running through. Patio, garden, swimming pool-the whole bit."

"It sure sounds great," Delaney said. "I've got to get up there and take a look. Jason, we've got Parnell working on the financial backgrounds of the two Ellerbees and Doctor Samuelson. What I'd like you to do is dig into their personal backgrounds. Ages, where born, living relatives, education, professional careers, and so forth. You can get most of that stuff from Who's Who, records of colleges, universities and hospitals, yearbooks of professional societies, and any other sources you can think of. Dig as deep as you think necessary."

"Well… sure," Jason said hesitantly. "But I've never done anything like that before, sir."

"Then it's time you learned. Don't lean on anyone too hard, but don't let them fluff you off either. It'll be a good chance to make contacts.

You never know when you might be needing them again."

"Get started on it in the morning. When do you want this stuff, sir?"

"Yesterday," Delaney said. "Get a good night's sleep."

A little after midnight, in the upstairs bedroom, he went in to shower first, leaving Monica brushing her hair at the dressing table. She came into the open bathroom after he finished, catching him sucking in his gut and examining his body in the full-length mirror.

"Now I know you met Diane Ellerbee today," she said.

He gave her a sour grin. "You really know how to hurt a guy, don't you?"

She laughed and patted his bare shoulder. "You'll do for me, pops."

"Pops?" he said in mock outrage. "I'll pop you!"

They giggled, wrestled a moment, kissed.

Later. when they were in their beds, he said, "Well, she is a beautiful woman. Incredible. Correct me if I'm wrong, but can't great physical beauty be a curse?"

"How so?"

"It seems to me that a young woman who starts out tremendously lovely would have no incentive to develop her mind or talents or skills. I mean people worship her automatically. Some rich guy grabs her off and buys her everything she wants-so where's her ambition to be anything?

She thinks she deserves her good fortune, and her looks will last forever."

"Well, that obviously didn't happen to Diane Ellerbee.

She's a respected professional and she's got brains to spare.

Maybe some beautiful women go the route you said, but not her. She's made her own good fortune. I told you I heard her speak, and the woman is brilliant."

"You don't think there's something cold and detached about her?"

"Cold and detached? No, I didn't get that impression at all,"

"Maybe it was a poor choice of words. Forceful and selfassured. Will you agree to that?"

"Yes," Monica said slowly, "I think that's fair. But of course a psychotherapist has to be self-assured-or at least give that impression.

You're not going to get many patients if you seem as neurotic as they are."

"You're probably right," he admitted. "But something about her disturbs me. It's the same feeling I get when I see a great painting or sculpture at the Met. It's pleasing visually, but there's something mysterious there. I've never been able to figure it out. I can look at a painting and really admire it, but sometimes it saddens me, too. It makes me think of death."

"Great beauty makes you think of death?"

"Sometimes."

"Did you ever consider seeking professional help?"

"Never," he said, laughing. "You're my therapist."

"Do you think Diane Ellerbee is more beautiful than I am?"

"Absolutely not," he said immediately. "To me, you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

"You really know what's good for you, don't you, buster?"

"You better believe it," he said, reaching out for her.

Dr. Samuelson's apartment was on the 18th floor of the co-op at 79th Street and Madison Avenue. His office was on the ground floor of the same building. It was not unusual for him to descend to work in the automatic elevator, wearing a holey wool cardigan and worn carpet slippers.

Delaney and Boone huddled under the marquee of the building for a moment, trying to keep out of a sleety rain that had been falling all night.

"Just for the fun of it," Delaney said, "let's both of us go after this guy. Short, punchy questions with no logical sequence. Biff, bang, pow!

We'll come at him from all angles."

"So he won't be able to get set?" Boone asked.

"Partly that. But mostly because he got me up so early on a miserable morning."

Dr. Samuelson opened the door to his office himself; there was no visible evidence that he employed a receptionist. He took their wet coats and hats and hung them away. He ushered them into a cluttered inner office in which all the furnishings seemed accumulated rather than selected. The place had a musty air, and the few good antiques were in need of restoration. A stuffed barn owl moldered atop a bookcase.

In addition to an old horsehair patient's couch, covered with an Indian blanket, there were two creaky Morris chairs in the office. These Samuelson pulled up facing his massive desk. He sat behind it in a wing chair upholstered in worn maroon leather.

Sergeant Boone displayed his ID, introduced Delaney, and explained his role in the investigation.

"Oh, yes," Samuelson said in a high-pitched voice, "after you called last night I thought it best to make some inquiries.

You both are highly recommended. I am willing to cooperate, of course, but I have already told the police everything I know' "About the events of that Friday night," Delaney said, "when Ellerbee was killed. But there are things we need that are not included in your statement."