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I said it much too quickly, and caught Chauncey glancing at me keenly over the tops of his wire-rims. I took a breath, then said, “We’ve been married a long time and we still love each other. Dan laughs at my jokes and I listen to his stories. We have a good, normal family life. I mean, what happened last night is crazy. Out of the blue. It’s got to be a mistake, Mr. Howell.”
    Chauncey adjusted his eyeglasses, pushing them back with two fingers. “I don’t know enough yet to have an opinion,” he said slowly, “but I’ll be honest. You need to be prepared. Your husband’s not a movie star, but he’s a well-known, well-respected figure in the community. The Los Angeles police don’t need more bad publicity. They wouldn’t have gone this far without evidence.”
    My stomach clenched. “Don’t you think it’s all just a bureaucratic mistake?” I asked. “A nightmare out of Kafka? An innocent man arrested and caught in an inexplicable system. You have to untangle this.”
    He glanced at his watch and then stood up, a small man towering over me. “I’m going to do the best I can, believe me. Right now, I need to go inside and talk to Dan so we can get the bail hearing done.” I felt glued to the concrete, too weak to pull myself up next to him, so I just shielded my eyes against the sun and tilted my head up as Chauncey continued. “With luck, nothing has been leaked about Dan’s arrest. It’s a bad idea for us to play this out in the press until we have a position. You can bet the police have their statements all ready for the news conference. I’d just like to put that off as long as possible.”
    I crossed my arms over my gold buttons and suddenly understood Chauncey Howell’s understated appearance. He didn’t want to call attention to Dan — or himself — today. I felt slightly embarrassed by my flashy designer suit and thought of explaining to Chauncey that I’d been trying to look the part of supportive - woman - behind - the - man - in - court. But the instinct that had seemed so on target in my bedroom this morning looked awfully foolish in the harsh, yellow-hazed morning light of the courtroom steps. This was real life. Murder. And I was acting like an extra on One Life to Live.
    I stood up, brushed off my skirt, and handed Chauncey his legal pad. “What shall I do this morning?” I asked, trying to sound as competent as I possibly could.
    “Does Dan have a passport?”
    “Pardon?”
    “A United States passport. For travel.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “I may need it. The judge could ask for it as a condition of bail, to make sure he doesn’t leave the country. Usually I have twenty-four hours to turn it in, but sometimes a judge wants it in his hand before the defendant is released.”
    “I’ll go get it and bring it back.” With a mission in mind, I heard my voice take on a certain authority.
    Chauncey reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek Tiffany silver cardholder (so he had one Beverly Hills affectation) and handed me his business card, which was elegantly engraved (or two affectations).
    “Not necessary to come all the way back. Drop it at my office.”
    “What if you need it quickly to get him out?”
    “I have messengers between my office and the courthouse all day. They’ll have it to me faster than you could imagine.”
    I glanced at the address. Beverly Boulevard. More my part of town, but still. I took a deep breath. “Mr. Howell, is there a reason you don’t want me in the courthouse?”
    He looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I want you here?”
    I shrugged and let my hands flit from my waist down the sides of my skirt. “I can change if this isn’t appropriate.”
    “You look lovely, Mrs. Fields.”
    “Call me Lacy.”
    “Then call me Chauncey. Look, I don’t have any secret agendas. It’s just not necessary to have you in the courthouse this morning. The prosecutor will present the charge, which is murder in the second degree. That’s murder