thought . . . you thought it was me. Hell, the cops sure do. They came by my place and escorted me—that’s what they called it—escorted me downtown for questioning. I thought finding out Helene was dead was the worst low of my life. And I think it was. But being questioned for her murder. It just . . .”

He put his face in his hands and took several deep breaths.

I glanced at Paula; the expression on her face was skeptical.

Bruce looked up at me. “The only thing left to happen is the stock market can crash.” He laughed maniacally and several patrons turned to look at us. Bruce ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. Christ, I’m losing it.”

I sat in silence, watching him and waiting for him to continue.

After a moment he said, “You wouldn’t believe the calls I’ve been getting. Clients I’ve had for years, good clients, great clients, calling me to give condolences and then at the same time asking me about their portfolio. Like I give a rat’s ass, right now, what the hell their IRA’s doing.”

As if on cue, his BlackBerry buzzed on the table.

“Screw off,” Bruce said, hitting a button on the phone to silence it.

“Have you hired an attorney?” I asked.

Bruce nodded. “Sure. I didn’t know any criminal defense guys, but fortunately a strategic partner I have, an estates lawyer, recommended a buddy of his. Guy by the name of Gary Barramendi. Good guy. Works fast. The mere mention of the guy’s name had everybody over there shaking in their boots, so maybe I got lucky.”

I made a mental note to commit the attorney’s name to memory. I’d ask Galigani about him.

“What did you tell the police?”

“Nothing. Gary put the muzzle on me superquick. He said that a charge is waiting in the wings. As soon as the evidence piles up against me. Witnesses or whatever. See, that’s why I need you, Kate. I was with you the entire time up on the deck. You know I didn’t poison Celia.”

There had been a while he’d been gone. I had been on the phone with Mom.

I bit my lips.

And then, what about before I arrived? Surely he could have given her something before I got there.

“I don’t think you poisoned her while I was there. She was already feeling ill when I got there.”

Bruce looked crestfallen. “You think I did it.”

I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally.

A few strangers wandered into the café and proceeded to order at the counter. The whipping sounds of milk being steamed and the smell of espresso made my mouth water.

Bruce frowned. “But why would I try to hurt Celia when I knew you were coming over? That would be insane! I know you’re a PI, for Christ’s sake!”

“It does set you up with a pretty nice alibi.”

Bruce scratched his head. “This is going from bad to worse. You think I asked you over for lunch so I could poison Celia and then point to you as the witness who says I didn’t do it?”

“I don’t know how likely that possibility is, Bruce.” I pressed my lips together and fixed my eyes on him.

He covered his mouth. “This is rich.” He fiddled with his empty coffee cup and muttered, “I need a real frigging drink.” He closed his eyes and stewed.

I glanced at Paula, she nodded encouragingly at me.

I still couldn’t think of why he would want to hurt Celia, so I asked, “Why did they say you poisoned her anyhow?”

His eyes flicked open. “What?”

“What motive did the cops try and pin on you?”

Bruce smiled sadly. “They didn’t give me a motive, per se. The questions they asked all centered around how Celia must have known something. Must have had something on me and I would have wanted her out of the way. And they didn’t disguise the fact that they thought I was stupid for trying to kill her in front of you. Sort of like a jackass drawing a neon arrow above his own head.”

“What can you tell me about Margaret?”

Bruce shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Was her husband cheating on her?”

He glanced at his nails, suddenly looking spent. “See, that’s something Helene would have known. And if she did, she never said anything about it to me. What does Margaret say about it?”

“She thinks her husband is trying to kill her, that he mistakenly killed Helene that night instead.”

The color drained from Bruce’s face. He looked as if I’d landed a punch square in the solar