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up to four hours before I made the call. I flashed to how he’d looked when Jack and I found him, bobbing in the bubbles of bloody water. The image of tiny fish pecking away at a bigger, dead fish came to mind. I had no idea why. I swallowed hard. I wondered if there were any calories in bile.
    Janey said she wasn’t sure who used the elevator— as far as she knew, the spare key hadn’t left its peg at the reception area all day. “I don’t regularly make a list of people who visit the club or anything,” she said. “Jack hadn’t been in all day. Ameleth left the club well before five.”
    Jack turned to Ameleth and said, “I thought you were going shopping in Manhattan for equipment.”
    “I lied, Jack,” Ameleth said from the couch. “I lied because I didn’t want you to know where I was. Okay? I didn’t want you following me around.”
    Falcone asked, “If you met Barney here this afternoon, Ms. Bergen, I’ll have to insist you let me know what happened.”
    “No,” Ameleth answered succinctly. “I have nothing more to say until my lawyer arrives.” The tiny powerhouse then excused herself to call her lawyer from her office. Then Jack did the same from the wall phone. Janey asked to use it next. I didn’t know any lawyers; I didn’t make any calls.
    Falcone, visibly annoyed by this string of stalls, announced that she was going to the hospital to see if the coroner had come up with anything. In the meantime, she expected us to make statements in the morning and she knew where we lived. “And I’m keeping this, Ms. Bergen,” she said as she held up a cylindrical key. The one from the reception desk, I assumed.
    We all piled into the elevator. The cops, everyone. Jack turned out the lights as we left. I felt an eerie sensation—a cross between hunger and depression that could only be cured with a date with my Swedish friend, Haagen Dazs. The doors opened.
    “Get out of the way,” Ameleth demanded as she motored past the crowd. She tooled outside, not looking back once.
    We followed her to the street. She made unhappy frails. A police sign blocked off the entrance of the club, and a couple of uniforms loitered outside. Falcone instructed them to let no one inside until they heard from her. Then she got into one of the police cruisers and drove down Pierrepont Street toward the station house.
    Jack insisted Janey go home by herself. I guess her sex appeal diminished when Ameleth wasn’t around. She left, and Jack walked with me down Henry Street. Jack said, “I put the knife in your pocketbook.”
    “You what?” I asked.
    “It’s wrapped in a towel—it won’t ruin your stuff.”
    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He must have done it when I was looking for a cigarette. “You realize if I don’t take this to the cops I’m as guilty of stealing it as you are,” I said.
    “I don’t think Falcone should have the knife.” He quickly added, “It’s not my knife, Wanda.”
    “But you recognize it.”
    “I don’t,” he insisted.
    “You lie like a rug.”
    “I thought it would help your investigation. Give you the edge over the cops.”
    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Solving murder isn’t like playing in a tennis tournament, Jack.”
    I peeked inside my purse. It had felt a tad heavy. Sure enough, there was a towel shoved in there. Tiny red drops dotted the white terry cloth. This would give me something to work with. The murder weapon is usually a pretty major clue.
    “What the fuck am I thinking?” I asked myself out loud. No wonder Falcone hadn’t asked about the knife. I took a look at Jack. He was a cutie. Whipped, but cute. “I know you didn’t do it because that’d be too obvious.”
    “I swear to God, Wanda. I did not kill Barney.” Jack’s blue eyes beamed into mine. “If Ameleth did, though, we should know before the cops.”
    “Not smart to take the knife, Jack,” I said.
    “It was an impulsive mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.