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poisoned his family?"
    "Three generations, grandparents through children, and laughed out loud in court every time we mentioned one of their names. Eve n s o, I nearly passed out as the jury read the death sentence. That's when I transferred to Financial Crimes. I'd probably die myself if I had to push the button in the execution chamber, but I still believe in capital punishment in principle."
    Oddly, Gillian didn't-not now or before. Too much trouble, in a few words. A decade ago, after Rommy Gandolph's trial was over, his defense lawyer, Ed Murkowski, admitted to her that he'd taken a bench sentencing because he'd heard a rumor about her views. But she wasn't sitting there as a legislator. If any crime warranted execution, Gandolph's did.
    "And what is it that you want to know from me, Arthur? If I have second thoughts?" At this point no one would care about her opinion. And she had no doubts anyway about Gandolph's guilt-she'd settled that again in her own mind months ago when the prisoner's letter had arrived from Rudyard. She could still recall another remark Murkowski, Gandolph's lawyer, had passed after sentencing, when all of them, including the prosecutors, had communed in her chambers for a moment now that the awful words had been spoken. Gillian had commented dryly about Gandolph's insanity defense and Ed had responded, 'It was better than the story he had to tell, Judge. That was nothing but a slow guilty plea.'
    She had some thought to explain all of that to Arthur, but his black eyes had suddenly dropped to her ashtray, studying the gray remains there as if they were tea leaves. Arthur, she realized, was finally going to get to the point.
    "The Court of Appeals is killing me with kindness," he said, "probably because they appointed me. I begged for a chance to do discovery and they sent the matter down to the District Court until June 29th, before they decide whether to permit Gandolph to actually file a new habeas. So I'm turning over every stone." He finally ended his studied efforts not to look at her. "Listen, I have to ask. While you sat in Felony, were you doing what got you in trouble later, when you were hearing personal-injury cases?"
    She had not been enjoying this conversation much as it was, but now that she recognized the direction, a familiar freeze overcame her.
    "Do people say that?"
    "Gillian, please don't play games. Or get insulted. I'm doing what I have to do."
    "No, Arthur, I wasn't taking money when I heard criminal matters. No one bribed me on Rommy Gandolph s case-or any other case at that time. It began in Common Pleas, where it seemed to be the order of the day." She shook her head once, both at the lunacy of it and because her remark sounded faintly like an excuse.
    "All right," he said, but he was plainly applying a lawyer's judgment to her answer, weighing its verity. Watching him calculate, she decided that Arthur did not look particularly well. He was short, and had never appeared especially fit, but he was aging before his time. His dark eyes had retreated into bruised-looking flesh that suggested overwork and poor diet, and his hair was thinning. Worst, he still had an aspect of hound-dog eagerness, as if his tongue at any second might lop out of the corner of his mouth. She recalled then that he had a situation, family trouble, someone chronically sick. Perhaps it had worn him out.
    "And what about the drink, judge?"
    "The drink?"
    "Did you have an alcohol problem when you sat on Rommy Gan- dolph's case?"
    "No."
    "You weren't drinking?"
    He was skeptical -justifiably, she knew.
    "What do other people say, Arthur?"
    "What other people say won't matter much, if you're going to testify that you weren't drinking hard at the time."
    "I drank, Arthur. But not to excess."
    "Not at that time?"
    She flexed her tongue a bit in her mouth. Governed by common understanding, Raven had missed his mark. She could correct him, or say, 'Never,' and see if Arthur eventually wandered to the right