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and he doesn't need to."
    "All right, I'll accept that. But people do strange things, Mrs. Clarke. For your own sake, be prepared to accept that. Your husband may have a side to him you don't even know."
    It was possible. Anything was possible. But she didn't believe it. She couldn't.
    "I'd like to talk to Philip Wald after he sees him," Schwartz went on.
    "I'd appreciate it if you would. There's something called an arraignment scheduled for Thursday. We're going to need legal counsel by then, and Philip doesn't feel he's qualified to take the case." The case ... the case ... the case ... she already hated the word.
    "Philip's a good man."
    "I know. Mr. Schwartz ... I hate to bring this up, bit ..."
    "My fee?"
    "Your fee." She heaved a deep sigh and felt a knot tighten in her stomach.
    "We can discuss that. I'll try to be reasonable."
    "I'll tell you frankly, the man I spoke to before you asked for fifteen thousand dollars by Thursday. I couldn't even begin to swing that."
    "Do you have any assets?" Oh Christ, not that again.
    "Yes, I have assets." Her tone was suddenly disagreeable. "I have a business, a house, and a car. And my husband also has a car. But we can't just sell the house, or my business, in two days."
    It interested him the way she said "my business," not "our." He wondered what "his" business was, if any.
    "I wasn't expecting you to liquidate your assets on the spot, Mrs. Clarke." His tone was calm but firm. Something about him soothed her. "But I was thinking that you may need some collateral for the bail--if they make the charges stick, which remains to be seen. Bail can run pretty high. We'll worry about that later. As for my fee, I think two thousand dollars up to trial would be reasonable. And if it goes to trial, an additional five thousand dollars. But that won't be for a couple of months, and if you're a friend of Philip's, I won't worry." It struck her then that people who weren't "friends of Philip's" were in a world of trouble. She felt suddenly grateful. "How does that sound to you?"
    She nodded silently to herself, aghast but relieved. It was certainly better than the fee she had heard a few moments before. It would clean out her savings account, but at least she could manage the two thousand. They could worry about the other five later, if it came to that. She'd sell the Morgan if she had to, and without thinking twice. Ian's ass was on the line, and she needed him one hell of a lot more than she needed the Morgan. And there was always her mother's jewelry. But that was sacred. Even for Ian.
    "We can manage."
    "Fine. When can I see you?"
    "Anytime you like."
    "Then I'd like to see you tomorrow in my office. I'll talk to Wald this afternoon, and get up to see Mr. Clarke in the morning. Can you be in my office at ten-thirty?"
    "Yes."
    "Good. I'll get the police reports and see what the score is there. All right?"
    "Wonderful. I suddenly feel as though a thousand-pound weight is off my back. I'll tell you, I've been totally frantic. I'm way out of my league. Police, bail, counts of this and counts of that, arraignments ... I don't know what the hell is going on. I don't even know what the hell happened."
    "Well, we're going to find out. So you just relax."
    "Thank you, Mr. Schwartz. Thank you very much."
    "See you in the morning."
    They hung up and Jessica was suddenly in tears again. He had been nice to her. Finally someone had been decent to her in all this. From police inspectors who would tell her nothing, to desk sergeants who announced the charges and hung up in her ear, to attorneys who wanted fifteen thousand dollars in cash on their desks in forty-eight hours, to ... Martin Schwartz, a human being. And according to Philip Wald, Schwartz was a competent lawyer. It had been an incredible day. And oh God, where was Ian? The tears burned a hot damp path down her face again. It felt as though they had been coming all day. And she had to pull herself together. Wald would be there soon.
    Philip