Sophia hung up the work phone and stared at Emily with wide, wet eyes. "They've arrested Sebastian!"

"What? Why? I mean- I mean why Sebastian?"

"I don't know." She hurried to the cupboard and grabbed her jacket. "I have to down there. He needs me, Em."

"Of course, of course. I'll- I'll go with you."

"Oh would you? I really need somebody to be with me. Harry will be okay there isn't much business tonight anyway. I might just- oh hurry, call a cab while I call a friend of mine."

Sebastian could see the two detectives trying to calm his wife down out in the main office. With the door shut, he couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew Sophia's character enough to understand that she was raising hell...Italian style. He scowled at the figure of Emily, standing back meekly, her hand darting out now and then as if to steady his wife. That should be him comforting her, he cursed to himself.

The door opened and Detective Washington came in, closing the door behind him. He crossed the room and sat behind the desk, taking out a rather bulky folder and skimming through some of the contents.

"You've had a busy life, Sebastian."

"Meaning?"

"Well, look at all this paperwork. I mean, you've cost this city quite a lot of time and money haven't you?"

"Old news. There's nothin' current in there and you know it." Sebastian glowered at the detective.

"But it suggests a pattern, doesn't it, Sebastian. Public disturbances. Bar fights. Domestic abuse complaints. These all point to a man with some serious temper problems."

"Make your point."

"I did, Morano. Your temper problems. I think you had another one with Wally Spade."

"You're nuts." Sebastian picked at the edge of the table with his thumbnail. "Yeah, okay, I got on him at the party but he went in. That was it."

"Really? You went in after him."

"Yeah. After him, not after him. I was pissed at Sophia and the whole stupid party thing—and I wanted a beer."

"You wanted a beer." Art flipped through a few more pages. "You drink a lot of beer, don't you?"

"So what. And don't bother with the drunk and disorderly. That was- was- ten years ago."

"Patterns, Morano. Patterns."

"Screw your patterns! I didn't do the creep, okay?"

Art looked out to the anteroom, closed the folder and headed to the door. "Wait right there." The door closed quietly and Sebastian shook his head and cursed. Sophia was right. Goddam Sophia was always right.

******

Alec listened while the phone rang and rang, unanswered. He replaced the receiver and drummed his fingers on the plastic casing. Was she in and not answering? Was she out? Was she, was she, was she... He dropped his feet to the floor and grabbed his coat. Locking the door he started down the hall, a piece of the yellow police tape stuck in the baseboard molding caught his eye. He bent down to pick it up and heard Brenda's voice inside her apartment.

A little ashamed, he leaned his ear toward the door and listened closely. Brenda was trying to convince someone to come over, explaining that just because she had a temporary roommate, nothing had changed. He was about to go, more embarrassed than ever at eavesdropping, when he heard her use Darlene's name. He knocked on the door.

"Alec! Surprise, surprise. C'mon in." Brenda backed away and watched as he came in and saw Geena in a skimpy housecoat, sitting on the bed.

"Aaah, I- I'll drop by later.."

"Don't be silly," she said, closing the door and leaning against it. "We were just going to watch a movie."

"It's all right, Alec," Geena said. "Did you want to talk to Brenda, or me?"

"I uh- I wanted to ask you about Darlene." He said, turning to Brenda. "She won't answer my calls and I- I don't- I'm not sure what happened between us."

"Actually, Alec, she's coming over. You can wait if you like."

He thought he glimpsed a shadow crossing behind her eyes and the sensation made him uneasy. Geena watched complacently from the bed; certainly not the high tech robot of a few weeks ago. Alec shuffled and shook his head.

"I think I'll try another time. Maybe you could ask her to give me a call..." Brenda's face shifted into an amused mask.

"Sure. Sure, Alec. I'll mention that to her."

He twitched his hand goodbye to Geena and opened the door, stepping into the hall. Brenda followed, pulling the door almost shut behind her.

"Geena's looking good, don't you think?"

"Brenda—"

"It's a no-brainer, Alec, remember?" She kissed her finger and pushed it against his pants, sliding like liquid back into her apartment.

Alec shivered and plodded home, downcast.

**************

"She lined that lawyer up pretty quick," White complained, bending a paperclip into different shapes. "The guy seemed to jump every time she spoke."

"Whatever, he shot down our theory with our own bullets." Art stared at the reports in front of him. "Did you see this?" He slid a sheet across to his partner. "Read the part where the coroner suggests how the death occurred."

White read slowly, moving his lips with each word. "Says he took the blow on the right side of his head in a direction moving from right rear to left front. Figures the perp to be just under six feet, give or take."

"Right. Now look at this." Art pushed another form across the desk. "That's a departmental report from some of Sebastian's earlier offenses. Check out his AKAs."

Again White read carefully, stopping suddenly with a dejected grunt. "Lefty Morano? Say it isn't so."

Art shrugged. "It's so. Our killer had to be right handed as the lawyer pointed out and Morano is a lefty."

"Jesus, Jesus—so now who do you like?"

"Who's left? It was either Geena Dasher or Stanley Whiteside."

"Maybe it was both." White tossed the forms back to his partner. "We never considered a conspiracy yet."

"Geena, even in heels, isn't tall enough." Art pulled at his nose. "You know maybe, just maybe old Stanley took his dog out, tied it up somewhere, went in and did the dirty then came back, got the dog and returned in time to meet Geena going in. That gives him an alibi more or less and also a chance to delay discovery by talking her into a chat."

"And he could have picked up a rock or something outside and tossed it away when he went back out. I like that one, Art."

The detective grunted and wandered over to the blackboard, scratching absently at various annoying itches while he studied the information. "Only one problem," he spoke half to himself.

"What?" White got up and looked over his shoulder.

"Time." He went on, talking aloud to himself. "Stan was in the building first. He takes the dog out, ties it up, grabs a rock and goes back in. Wally is next. Does he go in before Stan gets back? After? Is Stan already in Wally's apartment?" He paused and plucked at his lip.

"You waitin' for me to answer?"

"No. Say Stan beats him back, Wally comes in, gets whacked Stan leaves. Or, Stan follows him upstairs, whacks him and leaves."

"What difference?"

"This is your board, partner, you're the one that's supposed to connect all the dots here. The difference is Morano. He came in very shortly after the vic, according to the statements, and he lives on the top floor."

"So Stan comes up after Morano then."

"Except we now have Regina Hasslet popping in downstairs, and shortly after her, Geena. I don't really see an opportunity for Stan to do all he had to do without one of them seeing something."

"My conspiracy theory. Just because the Dasher dame ain't tall enough doesn't mean she wasn't in on it."

"No it doesn't, but what did she do then?"

"She lied about when he got back."

Art considered this a moment. "Maybe, but there's still Regina and the times given in all the statements I just don't think allow for what had to be done. Do you?"

White opened his mouth and snapped it shut. He didn't know. "So... who?"