First degree - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,5

accusing Danny of bookmaking. Obviously a trumped-up charge against a law-abiding citizen.

Tara gets up on the couch and assumes her favorite position, lying on her side with her head resting just above my knee. It virtually forces me to pet her every time I reach for my beer, which works for me as well as her. If there's a better dog on this planet, if there's a better living creature on this planet, then this is a great planet, and that must be one amazing living creature.

The Knicks are up by four with a minute to play when I once again feel the reverse sting of great wealth. I bet two hundred on the game, and I realize the money has absolutely no significance to me. Betting is only fun when you're worried about losing. Absent the possibility of the agony of defeat, there can't be a thrill of victory. I'd better get another beer.

It's ten o'clock when the phone wakes me up during the UNLV game. I'm up three hundred bucks; I wish I could get excited about it.

"Hello?"

"Sorry to wake you, but you shouldn't be sleeping on the couch anyway," Laurie says. How does she know these things? Of course, she is a professional investigator; I have to remember to check the house for hidden cameras.

I stand up immediately. "I'm not on the couch."

"Yeah, right," she says in a voice that implies "You're full of shit, but who cares?" "Anyway, I just heard from Pete."

"And?"

"The preliminary report came in. The DNA matches. The body is definitely Dorsey."

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine. I'm glad it's over;" she says. "Go back to sleep."

I stifle a yawn. "I'm not really tired. I think I'll check and see if there's a basketball game on."

"You mean like the UNLV game I hear in the background?"

"Well, what do you know?"

"Good night, Andy. I love you."

"Good night, Laurie." We've been using the l-word for a couple of months now, but we both agree that it loses some meaning when it always draws an automatic "I love you too" in response. So we're allowing ourselves to make the decision on an individual basis, as it comes up. We're doing groundbreaking things in this relationship.

I watch the game for another three or four seconds before failing back to sleep. Somewhere around three o'clock in the morning, I get up and head for the bedroom, not waking again until seven-thirty. I take Tara for a walk, then get dressed and head for John Holbrook's office.

Holbrook has been with the DA's office for about six years, which means he's probably getting ready to head for the money on the defense side of the table. He's conscientious, hardworking, and relatively fair, a good if unexceptional attorney. Even on cases like this one, which he and I both know is of no great consequence to society, he'll be thoroughly prepared.

Danny Rolling's only role in my life is that of bookmaker, but in the numerous phone calls we have shared, I've gotten to know a little about him. He's got a wife who works as a physical therapist and two kids in high school. He skis, votes straight Republican, tries every diet fad that comes along, and can be counted on to pay off on a bet as surely as he can be counted on to collect.

What Danny does for a living is considered illegal only because of the bizarre nature of our criminal code. It's legal to gamble on a horse race at the track or an off-track betting parlor, but not with a bookmaker. You can waste the family food budget on lottery tickets, but not on the Knicks. Fortunes can be made or lost buying Yahoo! or IBM, but take the Giants and lay the points and you can find yourself in court.

I know that Danny has some connections to northern New Jersey's version of organized crime, because that is how he gets assigned the territory that he can cover. Having said that, I find him to be decent and honorable, and certainly worth getting off this ridiculous legal hook.

Holbrook is finishing a meeting in the conference room when I arrive, and his secretary has me wait in his office. He comes in a couple of minutes later and seems surprised to see me.

"Andy, what are you doing here?"

"We have a meeting on me Danny Rollins matter."

He nods. "I know, but I didn't expect you to come personally. I mean, a rich guy like you?" He looks at