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the dull light and lack of contrast suggested it could be anything between six AM and six PM.

We made coffee in silence. She cooked bacon while I fried eggs and made toast. Then we sat and had breakfast, stared out the gray window and felt sorry for ourselves. Finally, at eleven, while we were washing up, I said:

“I’m going to go and see Chad.”

She dried her hands on a tea towel, gazing dreamily at the sodden lawn in the back yard, and said, “Why?” Then she blinked and looked at me, frowning. “What for?”

“Something happened that night, Dehan. We haven’t got the whole picture.”

She heaved a big sigh. “I know. I was thinking about it last night. I even dreamed about it.” She shrugged. “You’re right. As it stands, there is something missing in the picture. Lenny would not and could not have disposed of the body the way it was disposed of.” She rested her ass against the sink. “Which means either he didn’t do it, or he had an accomplice. If he didn’t do it, it is really hard to explain his behavior at the aiport.”

I studied her face for a bit. After a moment, she asked me, “What do you think Chad can tell you?”

“What happened that night.”

“How would he know, Stone?”

“Let’s find out.”

She looked unhappy. “I wish you’d let me in on your thought processes sometimes, Big Guy.”

I grabbed my phone from the breakfast bar and spoke as I looked for his number and dialed. “There is no special thought process, Dehan. It just doesn’t makes sense that it went down the way people are saying it went down. So it must have gone down in a different way. And I have a hunch Chad knows more than he’s saying, because his story doesn’t quite make sense either.”

We arranged to meet outside the law school on West 116th Street. We picked him up in the Jag and drove down Amsterdam to Friedman’s, where we managed to park right outside and duck in out of the rain. The place was almost empty. We found a booth against the wall and ordered three burgers and three beers.

When the waitress had gone, Chad spread his hands. “You said you had news.”

Dehan was quiet, watching me.

I nodded. “Detective Leonard Davis is in hospital, in a critical condition. If he pulls through, he will be charged with Celeste’s murder.”

He frowned and looked down at his hands on the table. “A cop?”

“You don’t know who Leonard Davis is.”

He squinted at me and shook his head. “Should I?”

“He was the detective in charge of investigating Celeste’s murder.”

He made a face that indicated what he thought of cops in general. “That’s great. So why would this Davis want to kill Celeste?”

“It seems he was Rod.”

I waited. I watched his eyes. They darted around the table with small, quick movements, like thoughts and memories were laid out there and he was reading and cross-referencing them, trying to make sense of them. A couple of times he gave a small frown.

Finally, I said: “What? That doesn’t make sense to you?”

He shrugged. “I’m not the detective. You’ll build your case and see what the jury makes of it.”

“I’m curious what you make of it.”

“I don’t know what evidence you’ve got.”

I watched his eyes carefully. “A white truck?”

He looked away at the empty tables and after a moment shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re driving at, Detective Stone. You’re obviously trying to trap me or draw me into admitting something. I have no idea what it is. Why don’t you just come out and ask me?”

I nodded. “What really happened that night, Chad?”

“I already told you.”

“You told me half the truth.”

“So you say.”

“Here’s my problem. Detective Leonard Davis and Celeste had been having an affair for about six months. She was wild, out of control. Then she met you. From what you have told me, and I believe you, you were very focused on building a career, and she liked that in you. I don’t believe that back then, when you met her, you were the embittered cynic you pretend to be now. I think you both had chemistry and liked each other, and she felt she had found something in you. See, her dad and her brother are always talking about family, but actually Celeste had no family at all in any meaningful sense of the word. But I believe she felt she had found some kind of family in you. And I think that feeling was mutual. How am I doing?”

The waitress brought the beers and set them before us. As she walked away, Chad shrugged and made a face. “Pop psychology, a cop’s gut, who cares? How is any of this relevant to anything?”

“It’s relevant because, as you well know, about ninety percent of murders are motivated by love.”

“You have the man you’re going to charge, now you want to frame me?”

“No.” I gave my head a small shake. “You see, I think, when you found out about Rod…”

“Detective Leonard Davis.”

“When you found out about him, and read his text messages, I think that was a major blow to you. I think you felt hurt and betrayed.”

“OK, maybe I did, so what?”

“I think that’s why instead of kicking her out, the way you kicked out your roommate, Nigel, without a second thought, you had a big, almighty row which ended, as you said, in make up sex.”

“Again, so what? I told you all of this already.”

I nodded again. “And she told you, at least partly, who Rod was, and why she hadn’t shaken him off yet. Am I right?”

He didn’t answer for a bit. Then he said simply, “Yes. She didn’t say he was a cop…”

“She told you

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