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Lacey said mildly, “Douglas, you need a reality check here. You need to get a grip.”

“All right. So he can play with computers, that’s no big deal. He’s a nerd with big arms. You can’t marry him.”

“Well she can’t marry you, Douglas, you’re already married to me.” Candice took one step toward Lacey, then pulled up when she saw the look on Savich’s face.

“Congratulations,” Candice said, stepping back. “I do mean that. Marry him.”

“This is getting us nowhere fast,” Savich said. “Now, Candice, Sherlock and I are here to speak to Douglas about Belinda. Would you like to stay or go?”

“Why? Belinda’s been dead for seven years. Her killer is in jail, in Boston. I’ve even given you two names, women who knew her, who knew what she was like. Why are you talking to Douglas? He doesn’t know anything.”

“There are all sorts of loose ends, ma’am,” Savich said. “Tell you what, why don’t we come back, after you and your husband bond or kill each other or eat lunch or whatever else you’d like to do?” Savich rose as he spoke, his hand out to Lacey. She looked at that big strong hand and smiled. She still wanted to belt Candice.

“No, wait,” Douglas called out, but Savich just shook his head and waved.

She said as they walked from Douglas’s office, “What will we do now?”

“Let’s just duck around the corner for a minute. Douglas’s door is still open, Marge isn’t at her desk. Who knows? Maybe we just might hear something we shouldn’t.”

They moved as close to the open door as they could, pressing back against the wall.

“You can’t still want her, Douglas. Didn’t you see what she was wearing? By God, she even chews her thumbnail!”

Lacey looked at her thumbs. Sure enough, one thumbnail was nearly down to the quick. How had that happened?

“That’s enough, Candice,” Douglas said. He sounded incredibly tired. “That’s really quite enough. She shouldn’t marry him. I’ll have to think about this, then write down all the good sound reasons why it wouldn’t work. This shouldn’t be happening.”

“No, what shouldn’t be happening is that you still lust after her. Are you blind? What’s there to lust over? Get over it, Douglas. Buy some glasses.”

Douglas didn’t appear to have heard her—that or he was just ignoring her. He said, “They’re back here because of Belinda. There must be something going on with Marlin Jones. Savich called them loose ends, but I don’t trust that bastard. God knows. Mrs. Sherlock claimed she saw Marlin Jones kissing Belinda in the driveway. You say that it’s likely Marlin had slept with Belinda, but you’re just jealous, Candice. You didn’t know Belinda. Damn, it’s all nuts. I don’t understand any of it, but I think they must doubt that Marlin Jones killed Belinda. Maybe they think I killed her and that’s why they’re here.”

“That’s crazy, Douglas. They don’t have a clue. They’re just here fishing around. Just keep your mouth shut. Now, take me to lunch. I have to be back at the station at two o’clock.”

“We’re outta here,” Savich said. They were in the elevator and on their way down from the twentieth floor of the Malcolm Building within a minute.

Dinner had been quiet; that is, no one had had much to say about anything, which to Savich, was a relief. Evelyn Sherlock ate delicately, gave Savich disapproving looks, and said again that he was too good-looking and not to be trusted. She said nothing at all to her husband, except over a dessert of apple pie, she finally said, not looking at him, but down at her pie, “I spoke to one of your law clerks—Danny Elbright. He said he needed to speak to you but I told him you’d gone to the gas station. I asked him if I could help him and he said no, it was something really confidential. Even your wife couldn’t know.”

“It was probably about a current case,” Judge Sherlock said and forked down another bite of pie. He closed his eyes for a moment. “This is delicious. I need to give Isabelle another raise,” he said.

“No, she makes too much already,” said Evelyn Sherlock. “I think she bought the pie. She’s rarely here except when she knows you’ll be here. I