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desk in the inner office, and went down the hall to Fred Meecham’s suite. I sometimes did this anyway, to deliver his mail if I’d been the first to fetch it from the crate in the main lobby where the postal carrier had taken to leaving it after the elevator died (and kept on after it was fixed, the way I kept using the three flights of stairs). Occasionally, I went down the hall just to chat up Meecham’s paralegal, a bright beauty named Courtney, whom he’d hired straight out of Mount Holyoke. She had done a senior project on the women’s labor movement and come to Lowell for research, then fallen in love and decided to stay. “She must’ve left a lot of heartbroken college men in her wake,” I’d told Meecham.
    â€œAnd college women, too,” he confided. “Courtney is gay. And very up-front about it. Not in any militant way, just a friendly midwestern FYI kind of thing, the way she’ll also let you know she’s from Duluth.”
    â€œHi, Alex,” she greeted me with her glowing smile.
    There was no resisting her. I grinned back. “Is Himself in?” Meecham was my quarry today.
    He was sitting at his law library table in his shirtsleeves, his face in a
tome, which he clumped shut as he waved me in. I took one of the two vacant chairs facing his desk, each marked with the logo of Suffolk Law, his alma mater. “How’d the—” we began simultaneously, and both backed off.
    â€œAfter you,” he insisted.
    â€œHow did the arraignment go?” I asked.
    â€œMartin Travani was on the bench, which is probably good for us. He’s levelheaded. I got Pepper to plead not guilty, though his preference was to say nothing at all.”
    â€œJust keep his mouth shut? What’s that mean?”
    â€œI’m not sure. He seemed a little removed from the proceedings. It could be shock, which might be read either way. He admitted to the police that he had been with the victim yesterday morning, and that the scratch on his chin is from her nails, and that he’d just bought her the silk scarf that was found around her throat. But he won’t say he did or didn’t do it. For the time being, I’ll just have to work around him. As for bail, the DA argued that Pepper’s transient lifestyle and lack of community roots make him a risk to flee. Travani set a status date, at which time we can offer a case for bail. For charges, we’ve got murder, destroying evidence—oh, and possession of an unlicensed firearm. Police found a handgun hidden in his trailer.”
    â€œGreat,” I said.
    â€œIt appears not to have been fired, but they’re running it through ballistics now. There may be another problem, too. It seems that the victim had filed a 209-A against him.”
    It was a restraining order. “Filed it here in the city?”
    â€œNo one was quite clear about where or when. If true, it clearly establishes a prior relationship—which Pepper doesn’t deny. He told me they were in love.”
    â€œAren’t they all.”
    He went on. The police had two witnesses who saw Pepper with the victim outside his living quarters Saturday afternoon. “‘Speaking with raised voices’ is how the report put it. It sounded domestic, but the witnesses said they couldn’t hear the conversation very well and they didn’t linger to eavesdrop. The coroner places the time of death yesterday between noon and early evening. There were signs of a struggle in Pepper’s trailer.”

    â€œHas he got an alibi?”
    â€œHe was working—or supposed to be—during the time. He was on duty when he was arrested. A detective, along with one of the patrol officers pulling a detail at the carnival last night, went to the trailer and knocked but got no answer. On the strength of their witness reports, they felt they had probable cause. When they went inside they realized it was most likely the