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"You mean a woman?" "Unless you've switched gears," she said dryly. "Of course a woman." "No, I haven't switched gears, and no, I'm not seeing anybody. Nobody special." She gave him a critical once-over. "Maybe you should. Your wardrobe leaves a lot to be desired. It could stand a woman's touch." "What's wrong with my clothes?" He glanced down and could find no fault with the manner in which he was dressed. "To begin with, that shirt hasn't seen the hot side of an iron." "It's clean. So are my jeans." "Looks to me like when you left the force, you got lazy and sloppy." "That's what comes with being my own boss. I dress for comfort, and if I don't feel like shaving, I don't." "You're scrawny as a scarecrow," she observed. "I'm trim." Skeptical, she raised her eyebrows. "Okay. One of those Mexican bugs got hold of me while I was down there. Puked till there was no tomorrow. Haven't regained my weight yet." Her baleful stare said she wasn't buying it. "Look, I'm fine," he insisted. "Sometimes I forget to eat, that's all. I start writing at dusk, and it's dawn before I realize I didn't have supper. Opting for sleep over food is a hazard of my new profession." "So's alcoholism, I hear." Alex quickly averted his head and said testily, "I've got it under control." "That's not what I hear. Maybe you ought to back off some." "Yes, Mother."
    "Look, asshole, I think of myself as your friend. And you ain't got all that many to brag about." She sounded both annoyed and concerned. "Honey, I hear you're having blackouts." The goddamn courthouse grapevine. He wasn't even one of the players anymore, yet his name still caused juicy gossip. "Not in a while," he lied. "I only mentioned your love affair with Johnny Walker because I'm worried about you." "Then you're the only one around here who is." Hearing what sounded like self-pity in his voice, he let down his guard a notch and softened his expression. "I appreciate your concern, Linda. I know I went a little crazy after all that shit came down, but I'm okay now. Honest. Squelch any rumors you hear to the contrary." The bailiff regarded him skeptically but let the subject drop. "So what brings you here today?" "Just trying to scare up an idea for a book. The upcoming Reyes trial might have possibilities." The bailiff's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Any particular reason why you picked the Reyes trial when you've got all these others to choose from?" Alex had been closely following the intriguing case for several months. "It's got all the ingredients for a titillating novel," he said. "Illicit sex. Religious overtones. Lovers caught in the act by an enraged husband. A baseball bat for a weapon--much more dramatic than a bullet from a Saturday night special. Blood and brains on the wallpaper. A body on its way to the morgue." "A body not quite dead." "Brain dead," he argued. "That's a medical call, not a legal one," she reminded him. "Reyes's lawyer contends that he didn't actually kill the victim because the heart was being kept alive for harvesting." "Harvesting," Linda said scornfully. "Leave it to the doctors to make it sound more like a goddamn cotton crop than a human heart." Alex nodded. "Anyway, a whole legal can of worms has been opened up. If the stiff wasn't really a stiff when they harvested the heart, is Reyes really guilty of murder?" "Fortunately you or I don't have to decide," Alex said. "It'll be up to the jury."
    "If you were on the jury, which way would you go?" "I don't know because I haven't heard all the evidence yet. But I intend to. Do you know which courtroom has been assigned?" "Yeah, I know." She grinned, revealing extensive gold bridgework. "What's it worth to you?" Any courthouse employee could have given him the number of the courtroom, but he played her game. "A few beers at quitting time?" She smiled. "I was thinking more along the lines of dinner at my place. And then . . . Who knows what?" "Yeah?" "Steak, potatoes, and sex. Not necessarily in that order. Admit