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door to the room, only a short hall that opened up onto a big space.  Linda walked through and hovered at the end.  The room was dim, only the desk light was on. Two of the four walls were made of glass. The half moon hung like a piece of artwork in the middle of one of them. Kip sat in Fritz’s chair looking as if he’d wandered out of a Norman Rockwell illustration and into a Dali landscape.
    Linda shivered. She liked neither Rockwell nor Dali. She liked Kip the way he used to be before all this; his own blank canvas. She liked the Kip who relied on her or Fritz for definition. But Fritz wasn’t here anymore, the governor was holding out the things Kip wanted – power, attention, notoriety of his own - and she wasn’t the same woman who had left the house earlier that evening.  For the first time, the next step in Linda’s life wasn’t clear.
    Kip didn’t look at her when she came in. He barely moved as he methodically picked up, looked at, and placed his father’s things in a box on the side of the desk.  Linda felt him vibrating, radiating frustration and anger.  It rolled around the room like a Dervish.
    “I don’t want to talk, Linda,” he said quietly, his voice trembling.
    “We have to talk.”
    “No,” Kip held up his hand, “we don’t”
    “Then what do you want to do?  Just sit and wait until we know what ever it is that they know? You want to wait for other people to make their moves before we do? You want to pretend this isn’t happening?”
    Linda started toward the desk but stopped short. The usual ministrations wouldn’t work to soothe him. He didn’t want to be touched. She couldn’t coax him to bed.  He had been changing ever since Fritz died. It hadn’t been unattractive or unwanted – until now. Linda backed off, holding herself in check. She would tread carefully until she had the lay of the land. She talked, thinking on her feet.
    “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just can’t believe this is happening.  Everything was going so well,” she held out her hands to stop him from interrupting. “But we can control this situation. I spoke to an attorney about Hannah. She’s an old friend. She’ll get Hannah out of jail. Once that happens we’ll send her away to school. Lot’s of people have problem kids. Everyone will forget about this.  My attorney won’t bring you, or the firm, into this. She’ll deal with this discreetly. . .”
    “Discreetly?” In the blink of an eye Kip was up, standing behind the desk, his plain features contorted into disbelief and rage. He picked up a picture of his father and hurled it across the room. Not at her. Luckily, not at her. “How in the hell do you figure the murder of a California Supreme Court Justice can be handled discreetly?  When they thought this was an accident nobody was discreet. We won’t be able to sneeze without people trying to figure out what goes on in this house. They’re going to want a reason Hannah was arrested and if they can’t find one they’ll make it up.  Hannah caused problems from the minute she walked through the door. For my father. For me. Even for you.  But now she’s going to ruin my life. . .”
    “Okay. All right,” Linda screamed.  She backed up.  Afraid of her husband for the first time since she met him, Linda would never let him know. “You’ve always wanted her gone. Do you want me gone, too? You’re such a big man now you don’t need me?  If that’s what you’re saying then I’m out of here. I’ll take care of myself and I sure as hell won’t care who gets taken down if they prosecute my kid.”
    Kip put his hands on one of Fritz’s awards. It was a heavy thing made of crystal and wood. Even in the dim light Linda could see his arms shaking with the tension of his pent up emotions. He fought with himself wanting to lift it, throw it, and cradle it to his breast.
    “It was supposed to be my time.  I was making it my time. I was standing up. . .it was all