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legal and totally above board, and nothing for goddamn cops to get involved in."
    "Sam Leigh owe you money?” I shoved the dead man's photograph across the table. “That why you sent your wife to lift his wallet?"
    "Nope.” He'd got hold of himself, and now leant back in his chair, giving me his best poker face. “If she took it, that's her business, not mine. She knew Sam owed me. Maybe she just figured she was helping me out."
    "And she thought he'd have enough on him to pay you back?” I sat down opposite him and leaned over the table, invading his personal space just a little. “You don't kill someone for pocket change. And there's no way your wife had the strength to give that beating."
    "Hey, I know nothing about this, man. Believe it or not, it's the truth."
    Shrugging, I pulled his water glass away from him, using only my finger and thumb to pinch the rim. “Then you won't mind if I take this for fingerprint and DNA comparison."
    Morgan grabbed the glass so violently it overbalanced, spilling water into his lap. With a muttered epithet, he got up from his chair and swiped at his wet jeans. “I want my goddamn lawyer."
    I'd learnt to hate those words. “Lawyer or no lawyer, we're gonna place you at that scene."
    He leant back against the wall and folded his arms. “Lawyer."
    He wasn't gonna give me anything else for now, so I left him to stew for a while, taking the details he scrawled down and heading back into observation. “Layton, get the lawyer here, then take a break. Santoro, get a warrant for his house and find out how much our dead guy owed him. Take Beaumont with you."
    I watched them file out, then headed back into the interrogation room. I'd need to wait for Morgan's lawyer for some of my answers, but not others.
    "Got a question for you."
    "And until my lawyer gets here, you're not getting another word out of me.” Morgan had taken my seat, since he'd spilt water on his own, so I took up his former position against the wall.
    "Personal question, not business. Your lawyer's on his way. Until then, I wanna know why you told your wife to get involved with me."
    Morgan's eyebrows shot up, and I couldn't help but be amused by his shock. “Yeah. Laura told me that, too."
    "Is there a reason I should tell you?” he drawled.
    Shrugging, I pushed off the wall and took a step towards the door. “I'm not gonna play games with you. This is your one chance to tell me what I did to piss you off. Take it or leave it."
    After a brief hesitation, he decided the benefits outweighed the risks. “I knew Johnny Collier for years before I met Laura. By the time he introduced me to his kid sister, we'd been through college together. We were frat brothers. We were practically related."
    Two things crossed my mind simultaneously. The first was that though I could understand the brotherly bond between cops, who watched each other's backs in dangerous situations every day, I'd never get why frat brothers acted the same way.
    The second was the thought I chose to voice. “So you married your frat brother's sister. And that didn't seem a little incestuous to you?"
    Morgan's face contorted with anger and he balled his hands into fists atop the table as he gave me the usual spiel about shutting the hell up about things I didn't understand. Recognising the warning signs, I lay a cautious hand on my service weapon until he calmed down enough to let me get a word in.
    "How many times did Johnny assault women while you were frat brothers? I'm betting he started before you married Laura, and if you two were as close as you say you were, there's no way you didn't know about it."
    Morgan's gaze wavered, and my gut kicked. Mentally adding the aiding and abetting of a serial rapist to his rap sheet, I pushed him a little more—he wouldn't talk until his lawyer arrived unless I really rattled him. “So I send Johnny to jail, and you decide to get even with me by...sending your wife to my bed? I gotta tell you, Garth, that showed