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lips were tight.
    “Why were you leaving the morning of his divorce trial?”
    “I didn’t want to be a distraction,” Goodling said.
    “April, we discussed this,” Gild said in a stern voice.
    Something must have connected, because Goodling turned to her lawyers. “Okay,” she said.
    “Now there’s no divorce trial, there’s nothing for you to distract,” Greene persisted. “Weren’t you friendly with his son, Simon?”
    Goodling flushed. “I love Simon.”
    “April,” Gild said.
    “A few hours from now I’m taking that little boy into a studio at police headquarters so he can tell me on tape what happened last night,” Greene said. “Then his family gets to tell him that his daddy is dead. If you care about the boy, why aren’t you staying to support him?”
    Goodling’s mouth gaped open. “Who are you to question me like this?”
    Greene grabbed his notebook from the table. “I’m a homicide detective. A child has lost his father and it means nothing to you.” He pushed his chair back and started toward the door.
    Kennicott got up to follow.
    “How can you say that?” For the first time Goodling looked angry. “You don’t understand what—”
    “April,” Gild shouted. “No.”
    Greene stormed back to the table. “A poor kid gets shot in one of the tough parts of the city, Jane and Finch or Rexdale. When no one talks to the police, all we hear is how awful ‘these’ people are who won’t cooperate with the authorities. You tell me how you’re any damn different?”
    Goodling was shaking her head.
    “What’s your excuse? There’s no gang member lying in wait for you because you ratted out his friend. Silence kills,” Greene said. “Believe me, I know.”
    “That’s enough,” Cutter bellowed at Greene.
    “No, it isn’t. I’m just getting started.” Greene grew calm. He glared at Cutter. “There’s a fine line between advising your client and obstructing police.”
    “You threatening me?” Cutter said.
    “I’m watching you two like a hawk.” He nodded at Gild before he turned to the actress. “You’re going to talk to me, Ms. Goodling. You know it and I know it. Because it’s the right thing to do. Your high-priced legal help can advise you all they want. You have my number now. I expect to hear from you.”
    He spun back around, strode out, and slammed the door behindhim so hard that the frothy cappuccinos shuddered. Bits of white foam flew across the table.
    “Quick, get a cloth,” Cutter shouted at the receptionist.
    Kennicott made for the door after Greene. He grabbed the handle and stole one last glance at Goodling. She was sliding Greene’s business card into her purse, like a child hiding a candy from her parents.

13
    For Jennifer Raglan, this was an odd moment. Walking back into her old office for the first time in two months. Until June, she’d been the head Crown for five stress-filled years. She’d loved it and hated it. Mostly loved it.
    “Jennie, thanks so much for coming,” Ralph Armitage said with a nervous laugh, sitting up in her old chair. Armitage had been a camp counselor and had the annoying habit of giving everyone nicknames that ended in the ee sound. “Feels odd to be sitting behind your desk.”
    “Feels good to me,” Raglan said.
    Armitage was a tall man, and even seated he dominated the room. Her old desk was spotless, in stark contrast to the usual clutter of files that always topped it when she worked there. The framed photo of Raglan’s three kids, which used to adorn the credenza on the back wall, had been replaced by an array of pictures of Armitage and his very blond and equally tall wife on various athletic vacations—skiing in Switzerland, horseback riding in New Mexico, scuba diving in Belize. All the things couples without children could afford.
    It was hot in the room. The office faced east, and the morning sun slanted in. An old air-conditioning unit that rattled away in the corner window was better at making noise