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York City.”
    Deegan began shuffling through the papers. “Should we discuss bail, Your Honor?” he asked absently.
    The judge looked at him somewhat scoldingly. “I can’t discuss bail until I have an identity, Mr. Deegan,” she said. “How can I assess the likelihood of appearance if I have no idea who she is or her resources or anything else for that matter?”
    Deegan nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”
    â€œThe amount of bail remains pending,” the judge said loudly. She looked up, stared directly at the woman. “Do you have anything to say, miss?”
    The woman didn’t answer.
    The judge turned to Deegan. “I suggest you have a long talk with your client, counselor. She has been charged with a very serious crime.”
    â€œMay I have a word with her before she’s remanded, Your Honor?” Deegan asked immediately.
    â€œYes, all right,” the judge told him. “Use the conference room behind chambers.”
    â€œThank you, Your Honor.”
    The judge banged the gavel. “Next case.”
    For a moment, the woman remained absolutely still. Then Deegan took her arm and tugged it slightly. She followed him immediately, moving silently to the right until the two of them finally disappeared behind two double doors at the rear comer of the room.
    Frank got to his feet and walked out into the outer corridor. For a long time, he stood beneath its long fluorescent lights, watching silently as the dawn parade passed by. Across the way, he could see Upjohn making his final pitch to the man who’d sat on the bench in front of him. His fangs were sunk deep now, his nose already twitching with the scent of such a large, slow-moving prey.
    They’d both moved down the corridor, Upjohn’s arm draped protectively over the other man’s shoulder, by the time Deegan came rushing through the doors of the courtroom. He wore a shiny blue suit, papers sprouting in all directions from its various pockets, and carried a battered briefcase, which he swung in a wide arc as he hustled forward.
    He was already in the crowded elevator before Frank caught up to him.
    â€œMy name’s Clemons,” he said, flashing his official PI identification.
    Deegan barely glanced at it as he punched the first-floor button. “Something on your mind?”
    â€œI was wondering what you’d found out about the woman,” Frank asked.
    Deegan’s eyes shifted over to him immediately, twitching left and right. “Woman?”
    â€œThe one they just assigned to you.”
    â€œI see,” Deegan said, his voice very level. He looked either vaguely shaken or simply ill at ease. Frank couldn’t tell which. “That woman,” he said, then stopped, as if they were the first two words of a sentence he’d decided not to finish. He started to speak again, but the elevator doors opened and he walked out briskly, waving Frank alongside him as he headed toward the revolving doors at the other end of the building.
    â€œI know you had a talk with her,” Frank told him, “and I was just wondering …”
    Deegan slammed through the doors, out into the crisp morning air. He drew in a long, deep breath. “That fucking smoke,” he said. He glanced eastward, his eyes settling slowly on the slick pinkish flow of the East River. “That’s better. Calms you down.” He drew in a second deep breath, his large belly swelling out from under his jacket.
    â€œI think the woman may have tried to hire me,” Frank told him.
    Deegan’s eyes turned toward him. “To do what?”
    â€œShe didn’t really say,” Frank told him. “She just sent me a note. Well, not a note exactly, but … a bead.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œA bead,” Frank repeated. “A red bead.”
    â€œHow did you get this bead?”
    â€œIt came in an envelope,” Frank said. “Nothing else. No letter,