"For the past year your late husband was having an affair with one of his patients, Joan Yesell. Not only was this a violation of professional ethics, but it was also a betrayal of his marriage vows and a grievous insult to you personally."

He was watching her closely as he spoke, and saw no signs of surprise or horror. But those touching fingers clenched to form a ball of whitened knuckles, and the porcelain-complexion blanched.

"You don't-" she began, her voice now dry and cracked.

"The evidence cannot be controverted," Delaney interrupted. He flipped through more pages on his clipboard.

"We have the sworn statements of Miss Yesell, her mother, the testimony of an eyewitness who saw the doctor driving away after delivering Yesell to her home on a Friday night. And the clause canceling his patients' outstanding bills in your late husband's will was expressly designed to benefit Miss Yesell.

Now do you wish to deny that Doctor Simon was carrying on an illicit relationship?" I was not aware of it," she said harshly.

"Ah, but you were. You are an intelligent, perceptive woman. We are certain you were aware of your husband's transgression."

Diane Ellerbee stood abruptly.

"I think this meeting is at an end," she said.

"Please leave before…"

Delaney reached out to slap the top of her desk with an open palm. The sharp crack made her jump.

"Sit down, madam!" he thundered.

"You are going nowhere without our permission."

She stared at him, blank-faced, and then slowly lowered herself back into her chair.

"Let's get on with it," Delaney said.

"We don't want to waste too much time on a tawdry murder." That got to her, he could see, and he peered down at his clipboard, flipping pages with some satisfaction.

"Now then," he said, looking up at her again, "the evidence we have uncovered indicates that you became aware of your husband's affair sometime last year, probably soon after it started. This is supposition on my part, but I would guess you let it continue because you hoped it was just a passing fancy and would soon end."

I don't have to answer any of your questions," she said.

Delaney showed his big yellow teeth in something approximating a smile.

"But I haven't asked any questions, have I?

Let me continue. About three weeks prior to his death, your husband came to you, confessed his love for Joan Yesell, and asked for a divorce.

There went your hope that his adulterous relationship was a temporary infatuation. Worse, it was a tremendous blow to your self-esteem."

"You're a dreadful man," she whispered.

"That's true," he said, almost happily, "I am. Let me psychoanalyze you, doctor, for a few minutes. Turn the tables, so to speak. You are a beautiful and wealthy woman, and all your life you've lived in a cocoon, protected and sheltered from reality. What do you know about a waitress's aching feet or how hard the wife of a poor man works? It's all been peaches and cream, hasn't it? All those relatives dying and leaving you money. A successful career. And best of all, being worshiped by men. You could see it in their eyes and the way they acted.

Every man you ever met wanted to jump on your bones."

"Stop it," she said.

"Please stop it."

"Never a defeat," he continued relentlessly.

"Never evena disappointment. But then your husband comes to you, says Bye-bye, kiddo, I want to leave you to marry another woman.

And a quiet, timid, plain, rather dowdy woman at that. It was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Because you couldn't handle defeat.

Didn't know how-you had no experience. So all you could feel was anger.

Your husband's declaration of love for Yesell not only destroyed you, but it destroyed your world." He paused a moment, expecting a reply. But when she said nothing, he flipped more pages on his clipboard, then looked up at her again.

"All right," he said, "so much for the psychoanalysis, doc but I think it gives us a motive a jury would believe. Now let's talk about the weapon the ball peen hammer that crushed your husband's skull and put out his eyes.

We spent a lot of time on that hammer, Doctor Ellerbee, and, lo and behold, we discovered a ball peen hammer was stolen sometime in October from May's Garage and Service Station in Brewster, where you take your cars. You could have lifted it. It's possible, isn't it? And where do you think that hammer is now? At the bottom of the brook that runs through your land. Which is why we're getting a warrant to drag the stream. And if we find it-what then?

Fingerprints and bloodstains, I suppose. You'd be amazed at what the laboratory men can do these days."

She stirred restlessly, moving her body in the chair and turning her head back and forth. She reminded Delaney of one of the great cats he had seen behind bars in the Central Park Zoo-a cheetah, he recalled whipping its head from side to side, pacing, endlessly pacing, plotting how to get out.

"Not much more now," he said stonily.

"You couldn't handle your anger, so you got hold of the hammer and started planning. It had to be on a Friday night, because that's when Joan Yesell came up here, and she and your husband made love on his black leather couch. Right? So, on that stormy night, you didn't drive up early to Brewster at all, did you?"

"I did!" she cried.

"I did!"

"Don't jerk me around," he said, tapping his clipboard.

"We've got evidence here that you didn't. That instead you stayed in Manhattan, watched the townhouse, waiting for Joan Yesell to arrive. But she was late that night. Your anger was building, building… Finally you came in here and murdered your husband. And then smashed his eyes because he had the effrontery to look at another woman."

She stared at him with horrified wonder.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked.

"Why?"

He stood suddenly and slammed a hard fist down on her desk top, a heavy blow that made everyone in the room jump.

He leaned far over the desk.

"Why?" he said in a strangled voice, glaring at her.

"Why?

Because you visited my home, you were sweet to my wife, you invited us to your home and fed us. You actually sat down at table with us and acted the bountiful hostess. Then you sent us flowers. The beginning of your downfall-if only you could have known. But throughout you've played me for a fool-a fool! And that I can't take. You want to know why?

That's why I" He subsided into his chair, his fury ebbing. She looked at him, bewildered, not understanding. Boone and Jason understood but remained silent.

The silence grew. He gave her time, watching her face working. He guessed what was going through her mind. He could almost see her confidence slowly returning as she reviewed everything he had said. She straightened in her chair, raised a hand to make certain her braids were in place.

"You don't know that I stole a hammer from May's," she said finally,

"and you certainly can't prove it."

"That's true," Delaney said, nodding.

"And you can't prove that I stayed in Manhattan that night."

He nodded again.

"You can't even prove that I knew about my husband's sleazy little affair," she concluded triumphantly.

"So you've got nothing."

He showed his teeth again.

"We've got you, madam," he said.

She was shaken, expecting to hear a proven indictment.

But this great, shaggy bear of a man sat silently, staring at her over his reading glasses.

"Stop calling me 'madam,"' she said petulantly.

"If you don't wish to address me as "Doctor,' then "Mrs. Ellerbee' will do as well."

He leaned forward.

"Why don't we cut out the shit," he said pleasantly, using the crude word deliberately to further unsettle her.

"You're going to waltz away from this, smiling bravely. If you don't know it, your lawyers will."