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  "Your policewoman friend Maura Polanski called me early this morning and tipped me off that your arrest was imminent. I made a quick call to the docket clerk—who owes me a few. Not just everyone gets a same-day hearing, you know, so keep that under your hat. Your cop friend also said that she was making bail arrangements, and that price would be no object. So cheer up."

  Leigh continued to stare blankly. How did Maura know she was being arrested? And what was this nonsense about price being no object? Had the policewoman lost her mind? With her mother facing assisted living, Maura had worse money problems than Leigh did.

  "I'll meet you back at the jail," Katharine continued. "You have to be processed out before you can go home." She looked at her watch. "Warren should already be there waiting for you."

  The faint tinge of jealousy overriding Katharine's last comment was not lost on Leigh, but she had other things on her mind. The handcuffs, the escorts, arrangements mysteriously made—the day's events were making her feel very much like a marionette.

  Her escort (a stocky young man with a trace of B.O.), reapplied her handcuffs and led her out of the courtroom. She stopped cold in the hallway as a familiar figure started toward her.

  "Leigh! Are you all right?"

  She looked up into the genuinely concerned, ridiculously handsome face of her cousin-in-law. "I'm okay, Gil," she answered, marshalling all the dignity she could for someone whose hands were cuffed behind her back.

  "The bail's taken care of," he said quickly. "You don't need to worry. You're getting out, and you're not going back in. This whole arrest is ludicrous!"

  So that was it. Maura had gone straight to Cara, knowing that Cara would offer the money in a minute. Leigh looked at her cousin's husband with a mixture of gratitude, embarrassment, annoyance, and some other feeling she refused to acknowledge. He was even more gorgeous when he was angry, and this anger was righteous indignation toward the police, a sentiment she wholeheartedly approved of.

  "I'm sorry you guys got dragged into this. Cara's all right, isn't she?" she asked.

  "She's worried sick about you, of course," Gil answered honestly. "We're both anxious to help. Just let us know what you need, all right?"

  "How about a one-way ticket to Rio?"

  He looked at her sternly, and Leigh laughed out loud. Some people had no sense of humor. "I'm just kidding, Gil. Make sure you tell Cara I was cutting up in my hour of darkness, okay?"

  He smiled slightly.

  "And—" Leigh's voice broke. This was the hard part. She hated taking charity from her cousin, much less her cousin's husband. No one should have to bankroll an in-law. But no way was she rotting in the county jail out of stubborn pride. She wasn't that noble. She cleared her throat. "Thank you."

  He started to answer, but Leigh's escort gave her arm a visible tug. "We'll see you later," Gil said instead, turning to leave. "Take care of yourself."

  Leigh watched his perfect, photo-ready form stride away before the guard moved her along. He and Cara made such a perfect couple. She was glad she had set them up. Really, she was.

  ***

  With her clothes returned and her orange jumpsuit abandoned, a released and unshackled Leigh was able to meet Warren with some trace of dignity. Neither Maura nor Warren had chosen to show up at the hearing, and she was grateful. There was a fine line between providing moral support and adding to one's humiliation. Warren rose to greet her without a trace of worry in his face, and Leigh suspected he'd worked hard to look that way. She would soon get all the worry she needed from her mother—Frances Koslow's worry capacity being equal to that of ten regular mothers.

  Warren smiled and stretched out his arms, and Leigh fell into them gladly. They had always been affectionate pals, and he knew when she needed a lift. An awkward moment of silence followed, heightened by Katharine Bower's distinct look of disapproval, which Warren seemed to find extremely amusing.

  "It's about dinnertime, by my watch," he said cheerfully. "And I'm starving, as usual. Can I take you ladies out?"

  Katharine eyes danced a little at the invitation, but she declined, saying something about billable hours. Leigh knew that she was a third wheel as far as Katharine was concerned, but she didn't particularly care. Warren was her friend first, after all, and she had had a rather despicable day. Leigh thanked Katharine profusely for her stellar work, promised to meet with her first thing in the morning, and headed towards the door with Warren.

  Ignoring the small throng of reporters awaiting them outside the jail, they took off in the VW and drove back to the North Hills, where Leigh assuaged a small portion of her guilt by covering the bill for takeout from a Chinese buffet. Ordinarily, she would have taken a seat and stuffed herself silly on General Tso's, but she was weary of crowds, and Warren didn't seem to mind.

  As they carried their paper-sack booty across the parking lot and up to the main entrance of their apartment building, they nearly collided with a startled Tanner, who was just turning to leave.

  "Leigh! Thank God!" he hugged her close, squishing what was probably egg drop soup out of the bag and onto her shirt. She reddened at the greeting and held the food out to the side.

  "Mike! What are you doing here?"

  He smiled and shook his head. "What do you think? You were whisked away in handcuffs, was I supposed to go on about my business? I called around and found out you'd been released—I was hoping you'd be home. Are you all right?"

  Leigh's heart warmed. "I'll be fine. Thanks for coming by."

  "Warren Harmon," said the forgotten man at Leigh's other side, who knew his friend too well to wait for an introduction. "I presume you're Mike Tanner?"

  Tanner nodded, and the men shook hands. Leigh noticed absently that Warren was taller—she would have guessed the other way around.

  "Would you like to come up to my place for some Chinese?" she asked Tanner, smiling. "I think we loaded up enough for three."

  Within a few minutes, she was playing hostess to two attractive, single men in her own humble kitchen—a rare event indeed. Warren didn't officially count, but the illusion was nice.

  "So, who paid your bail?" Tanner said curiously, digging into some twice-fried pork. "And what about that fancy lawyer? I thought you were having money problems."

  Leigh wished he hadn't asked, since it really wasn't any of his business, but she couldn't very well dodge the issue under the circumstances. She opened her mouth to answer, but Warren cut her off.

  "Leigh has some rather wealthy family connections," he said smoothly, "but she doesn't like to advertise it."

  Tanner's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. Having worked with Leigh's father, he no doubt knew she couldn't expect any windfalls from that quarter. Randall Koslow was an excellent veterinarian, but no one would ever accuse him of being a shrewd businessman.

  Tanner surveyed Warren with a suspicious look, though his tone remained casual. "Are you a relative?"

  Warren smiled. It was a smile Leigh knew well—the one that said he was secretly amused by something. "Just an old friend," he answered.

  "Do we need more rice?" Leigh asked nervously. There was something about Tanner meeting Warren that she decided she didn't care for. Warren was one part of her life, Tanner was another. They should have stayed that way.

  "You make rice?" Warren teased.

  Leigh whacked him with an empty carton and got up. "I am capable of boiling instant rice, yes. But only when absolutely necessary. More pop?"

  She went to the refrigerator and pulled out two more cans, the last cold ones. She'd have to make do with a lukewarm one herself, since the ice cube trays had been empty for weeks. No matter. It was a bonus there were cans at all —she'd have never found three matching tumblers.

  She returned to her plate of the General, and joined Warren in steering the conversation away from the obvious. They talked first about the weather, then national politics, which led quickly to Pittsburgh politics and a heated debate over the necessity of new sports stadiums. Give
n that Warren was an experienced debater and well versed on the facts to boot, Tanner wasn't coming off too well. Leigh grew annoyed, making an ill-fated attempt to change the subject to methods of rodent anesthesia. When dinner was finished, Tanner threw an easily interpretable look at Leigh. Are we going to be alone anytime soon?

  Leigh tried to send Warren a visual invitation to leave, but not only did he avoid her eyes, he started clearing the table. A noble gesture that Leigh ordinarily approved of, but in this case, blasted awkward. He drifted comfortably around the kitchen, giving every indication he knew it intimately. In reality, he almost never went near the place, declaring it woefully unequipped.

  It soon became apparent that Warren had no intention of leaving first, and though Leigh would ordinarily feel no compunction about booting him out, something about his footing her legal bills made that seem crass. Tanner eventually gave up, made an excuse to leave, and asked Leigh to walk him out.

  "I can't tell you how terrible I feel about all this," he said for the umpteenth time as they walked down the hall and boarded the elevator.

  "You have," she answered, "repeatedly. And as I keep telling you—it's not your fault. It's not anybody's fault." With the possible exception of one Detective Gerald Frank. "It's just my dumb luck. But I'll be okay. The worst is over, you know. I'm not going to jail. No way."

  Tanner smiled. "You got guts, you know that?"

  "Not guts," Leigh answered honestly. "Just a good self-defense mechanism for blocking out reality."

  He laughed, then looked at her with his deep blue eyes in a way that made her spine melt. "I'm going up to the cabin tonight. Why don't you come with me? We can forget about all this—at least for a little while."

  The offer that had been so tempting the day before now only saddened her. She could block out only so much reality. Tanner was wrapped up in all this mess somehow, and there were things he was hiding from her—she was sure of it. She was tired of not knowing what to believe, and nothing was going any further until she had all the facts. But she had to talk to him alone, without interruption. She had to get him to trust her. And vice versa.

  "I can't go tonight," she answered as they stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. "I'm meeting with my lawyer tomorrow morning. But if you're going anyway, I could drive up afterwards and meet you."

  She had expected disappointment, seeing how an invitation for the weekend generally implied something more than fishing and canoeing. But Tanner smiled happily. "Sure, if you'd rather. Do you know where Eau Claire is?"

  She looked at him blankly.

  "I'll write down some directions. It's not hard to find…"

  They walked outside to Tanner's pickup, where he rummaged about until he'd found a pen and an old copy of the Journal of Zoo and Wildlife Medicine. Finding an add for stainless-steel live traps that had a fair amount of white space, he began to scribble. Leigh tried to listen to the directions, but such things bored her to excess. She took the map and rolled it up carefully. She would figure it out tomorrow.

  "Are you sure you can leave the county?" Tanner asked practically.

  Leigh had no idea, but knew she would go anyway. "Sure. I'll send Frank a belly-gram with my exact location. He won't mind."

  Tanner laughed again, and pulled her into his arms. "You know why I like you? You crack me up."

  Given the demonstration that followed, Leigh wasn't inclined to be insulted that he didn't like her for her looks. But just as she was really beginning to enjoy herself, and just when she was seriously wondering how bad an idea it would be to stand up her lawyer tomorrow, she saw something disturbing out of the corner of her eye. She had seen a lot of it lately. It was that unmistakable shade of navy reserved for police uniforms.

  She jumped, pulled out of Tanner's arms, and swung around. But it was only Maura Polanski, leaning casually against a Ford Escort ten cars down. Maura had been watching the scene shamelessly, munching on an apple in the process.

  "Who's that?" Tanner asked.

  "Don't worry," Leigh answered, though she was a little worried herself. "That's my friend Maura, checking up on me."

  "That's great," he said, smiling, "just don't bring her along tomorrow." Heedless of Officer Polanski, Tanner opted for a warm goodbye kiss, then drove away. Leigh was sad as she watched him leave. It would be nice to get away from everything tomorrow. No police. No orange jumpsuits. No interruptions. And hopefully, no more doubts.

  ***

  "I guess you're doing all right after all," Maura said flatly, approaching. "And to think I was worried about you all day."

  Leigh smiled. She had no idea how Maura had found out about her forthcoming arrest, but she hoped that the method was ethical. Maura Polanski was the most honest person she'd ever known, and she certainly didn't want their friendship to be Maura's downfall.

  "Thanks," Leigh said simply. "You helped me out a lot today. I would have hated asking Cara for money myself, you know."

  "I know."

  Leigh knew not to be any more effusive. If Maura was forced to hear a big sloppy speech, she'd never help Leigh again.

  "So what do you think?" Leigh said cheerfully, tilting her head in the direction of Tanner's exit. "My new boss. Not bad, eh?"

  Maura didn't smile. She wasn't frowning either, but her disapproval was clear. "He's a witness, Koslow. This is a parking lot. You should see a problem with that."

  "He's not a witness," Leigh said defensively. "He's a veterinarian. And our relationship has nothing to do with Carmen's murder. Absolutely nothing!"

  Maura's face assumed the distant look it always got when she was trying to read Leigh's mind. Leigh averted her gaze quickly. Maura wasn't flawless at the task, like Warren was, but she was darn good. Leigh cursed her own transparency. It was incredibly annoying not to be able to lie to your own friends.

  They walked the rest of the way to Leigh's apartment in silence, where Warren, forgotten and unfazed, had settled himself in front of the television with a carton of Lemon Blennd. Mao Tse, who had retreated to the bedroom when the first visitors arrived, had ventured out as far as the recliner to glower at Warren more noticeably. One look at Maura and she was off again, hissing in protest.

  "Unsociable beast," Warren said dryly.

  "Doesn't like you either, eh?" Maura chuckled.

  Warren rose and turned off the television. "I'm afraid your arrest made the evening news… and it will be all over the papers tomorrow."

  The chagrin in his voice was deep, though Leigh wasn't sure why bad publicity for her would upset him so much. Having her name broadcast all over Southwest Pennsylvania as a murderess wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't like she had an adoring public to disillusion. On the other hand, it did mean her mother would find out.

  "My mom's going to freak," she said dully, dropping onto the couch.

  "She did okay, actually," Maura answered.

  Leigh sat up straight. "She what? She knows?"

  Maura motioned for Leigh to relax. "I talked to your folks myself this afternoon. I didn't want them to hear it from the media. Or from some buttinsky who happened to catch the first newscast."

  Leigh pictured her mother picking up the phone. Hello, Frances? It's Viv. I just heard about your daughter being arrested for that awful dismemberment thing. And she was such a sweet little girl! Hello, Frances? Frances? Leigh shuddered.

  "Thanks, Maura," she said sincerely. "That was good thinking."

  The policewoman shrugged. "I tried to reach you this morning, but I couldn't track you down. It was just as well—I wouldn't want Frank to know you were expecting him."

  Leigh considered herself a good actress, but calmly sitting around waiting to be arrested and then acting surprised was a bit beyond her. She nodded dumbly.

  Warren threw a brotherly arm around Leigh's shoulders. "Are you going to be all right tonight? Should we hang around a while longer, or just let you sleep?"

  Leigh considered. Company was a nice distraction, but unconsciousness was bett
er. A few antihistamine tablets and some warm milk, and she'd be angst-free till morning. "I think I'll hit the hay," she answered.

  Maura tossed her head in the direction of Leigh's phone. "I told your folks you'd probably be pretty strung out tonight. Your dad promised they wouldn't call until tomorrow, but I'm not sure your mom was sold. If you really want an undisturbed night, you'd better turn the answering machine on and the ringer off."

  "Already done," Warren answered.

  Leigh smiled warmly at her defense team. She was going to need them.

  Chapter 10

  Despite the horrors of the day, Leigh would have had no trouble sleeping, even without the antihistamines. She was exhausted. A few dreams came and went, some involving knocks on the door that may have been real, but for the most part, she was out. When her alarm clock rang at 6:30AM, she looked at it through heavy lids. Her brain was still foggy, but she knew enough to know that it was Saturday, and any alarm clock of hers that valued its gears knew better than to go off on a weekend.

  She reached out to hit the snooze button and found it obstructed by a yellow sticky note. She pulled it off and held it close to her face in the dim light. "Katharine. 7:00 AM. SHARP." The bold letters, print rather than cursive, were unmistakably Warren's. Mr. Punctuality himself. Grumbling, Leigh rolled out of bed. Would a 10:30 AM appointment have been a crime?

  She barely had time to dress and stuff down a breakfast bar before Katharine Bower rang her buzzer—at precisely 7:00 AM. A woman after Warren's own heart, Leigh thought cynically. In more ways than one. As soon as Katharine came in she unloaded her laptop and a thick sheaf of papers on Leigh's kitchen table, and began.

  "We have a lot to get through this morning," Katharine announced, more with relish than regret. "We'll begin with the evidence—specifically, data from the crime scene." Her voice was mechanical, her whole manner eminently professional. Leigh wanted to go back to bed.

  "It's extensive, but I'll summarize the relevant points for you. Two human legs and one arm were found within the tiger enclosure. The limbs were in poor condition—for obvious reasons. The left hand had been extensively gnawed but still bore two rings. The rings were identified by Mike Tanner as belonging to Carmen Koslow. Other personal items found at the scene included torn clothing, a purse, keys, and a jacket, all eventually confirmed to be those of Carmen Koslow. A car registered to Carmen Koslow was found in the employee parking lot. The victim had type O+ blood, matching Carmen Koslow's medical insurance records. Hair, consistent with that obtained from a hairbrush in Carmen Koslow's apartment, was found both on the floor of the shed and on the ground under the fence where police believe the body was dragged. Type O+ blood was also present in the shed, on the ground in a trail leading under the fence, and—here's the interesting part—on the driver-side door and on top of the trunk of a vehicle registered to Leigh Koslow."