"Don't talk like that to the Sheriff," theguard said.

"I don't know of any law against theuse of the word 'nuts.' And incidentally I wasn't violating anything in theCalifornia Code when I went out to the yacht to talk to McGee. I'm cooperatingwith a local attorney in this investigation and I have a right to get myinformation where I can and keep it confidential."

"How did you know he was there?"

"I got a tip."

"From Stevens?"

"Not from Stevens. You and I could trade information,Sheriff. How did you know he was there?"

"I don't make deals with suspects."

"What do you suspect me of? Illegal use of theword 'nuts'?"

"It isn't so funny. You were taken with McGee. Ihave a right to hold you."

"I have a right to call an attorney. Try kickingmy rights around and see where it gets you. I have friends in Sacramento."

They didn't include the Attorney Generalor anybody close to him, but I liked the sound of the phrase. Sheriff Crane didnot. He was half a politician, and like most of his kind he was an insecureman. He said after a moment's thought:

"You can make your call."

The Sheriff went into the interrogationroom—I caught a glimpse of McGee hunched gray-faced under a light—and added hisvoice to the difficult harmony there. My guard took me into a small adjoiningroom and left me by myself with a telephone. I used it to call Jerry Marks. Hewas about to leave for his appointment with Dr. Godwin and Dolly, but he saidhe'd come right over to the courthouse and bring Gil Stevens with him ifStevens was available.

They arrived together in less than fifteenminutes. Stevens shot me a glance from under the broken white wings of hishair. It was a covert and complex glance which seemed to mean that for therecord we were strangers. I suspected the old lawyer had advised McGee to talkto me, and probably set up the interview. I was in a position to use McGee'sfacts in ways that he couldn't.

With soft threats of habeas corpusproceedings, Jerry Marks sprung me out. Stevens remained behind with theSheriff and a Deputy D.A. It was going to take longer to spring his client.

A moon like a fallen fruit reversing gravity washoisting itself above the rooftops. It was huge and slightly squashed.

"Pretty," Jerry said in the parking lot.

"It looks like a rotten orange to me."

"Ugliness is in the eye of thebeholder. I learned that at my mother's knee and other low joints, as awell-known statesman said." Jerry always felt good when he tried somethinghe learned in law school, and it worked. He walked to his car swiftly, on theballs of his feet, and made the engine roar. "We're late for ourappointment with Godwin."

"Did you have time to check onBradshaw's alibi?"

"I did. It seems to beimpregnable." He gave me the details as we drove across town. "Judgingby temperature loss, rate of blood coagulation, and so on, the Deputy Coronerplaces the time of Miss Haggerty's death as no later than eight-thirty. Fromabout seven until about nine-thirty Dean Bradshaw was sitting, or standing uptalking, in front of over a hundred witnesses. I talked to three of them, threealumni picked more or less at random, and they all agreed he didn't leave thespeaker's table during that period. Which lets him out."

"Apparently it does."

"You sound disappointed, Lew."

"I'm partly that, and partly relieved. I ratherlike Bradshaw. But I was pretty certain he was our man."

In the remaining minutes before we reachedthe nursing home, I told him briefly what I'd learned from McGee, and from theSheriff. Jerry whistled, but made no other comment.

Dr. Codwin opened the door for us. He worea clean white smock and an aggrieved expression.

"You're late, Mr. Marks. I was justabout ready to call the whole thing off."

"We had a little emergency. ThomasMcGee was arrested about seven o'clock tonight. Mr. Archer happened to be withhim, and he was arrested, also."

Godwin turned to me. "You were withMcGee?"

"He sent for me, and he talked. I'mlooking forward to comparing his story with his daughter's."

"I'm afraid you aren't—ah—co-opted tothis session," Godwin said with some embarrassment. "As I pointed outto you before, you don't have professional immunity."

"I do if I'm acting on Mr. Marks's instructions.Which I am.

"Mr. Archer is correct, on both counts,"Jerry said.

Godwin let us in reluctantly. We wereoutsiders, interlopers in his shadowy kingdom. I had lost some of my confidencein his benevolent despotism, but I kept it to myself for the present.

He took us to the examination room whereDolly was waiting. She was sitting on the end of a padded table, wearing asleeveless white hospital gown. Alex stood in front of her, holding both herhands. His eyes stayed on her face, hungry and worshipping, as if she was thepriestess or the goddess of a strange one-member cult.

Her hair was shining and smooth. Her facewas composed. Only her eyes had a sullen restlessness and inwardness. Theymoved across me and failed to give any sign of recognition.

Godwin touched her shoulder. "Are you ready,Dolly?"

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009