The Hearing

'And you became friends?'

'I don't know about that. We did not go out.'

Amy wrinkled up her face, confusion all over it.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. 'What's the matter?'

'Only that I've heard differently. I wanted to talk to somebody who knew Elaine pretty well, and if that's not you…' She made to get up.

He gripped her arm above the wrist. 'We had coffee a few times,' he said. 'But there wasn't anything… between us.' Realizing what he'd done, he released his grip. 'What do you want to know about Elaine for, anyway? She was not what she pretended to be.'

'And what was that?'

He hesitated, decided against answering.

'Muhammed,' she said. 'You've heard she died last week, haven't you?'

He nodded. 'It was the will of Allah.'

'Well, yes, but it was maybe a little more than that. Somebody killed her.'

He sat up abruptly. 'That was not me. They arrested that other man.'

'I know. No one is saying it was you. I'm not saying that.' She smiled again. 'Please, Muhammed, we're just talking, all right?'

'But what are we talking about?'

'We're talking about who she was.' She leaned in closer to him. 'We were thinking of some kind of a memorial, maybe a statue, something like that. It will be very nice, out in the lobby, as a tribute to her.'

'To Elaine?' Amy realized that Treya had chosen a perfect cover story for them. Clearly infuriated, Muhammed's eyes were burning.

'Yes. Elaine. But you know, it's political. We would not want to go to all that trouble and expense if there was some embarrassing… if she-'

'She was a whore. A liar and a whore. She believed in nothing.'

'Well, surely-'

He slammed the table. All around the room, other students looked up, startled out of their studies. Muhammed was oblivious of it. 'She pretended to be coming to Islam. I would read from the Koran, and she would nod, pretending. "Yes," she would say, "that's interesting. That's good." But it was all false. She was white inside. She sold her body for their money, for her doctor's money.' There was spittle on Muhammed's lips. His breath came in ragged little gulps.

'When was the last time you saw her?'

'She was here,' he rasped. 'She was always here.'

'Here at the school?'

'Yes.'

'But I mean alone. Did you see her alone after she got engaged?'

'I told her she had to stop. It was all a lie. She was tormenting me.'

'Stop what? You mean call off her marriage?'

'No. Teaching here. Coming here.'

'That was tormenting you?'

He nodded. 'Every time I saw her. I knew she was laughing at me that I had believed her. I told her she had to stop.'

'When was this?'

'This new semester. Just now.' He gripped her hand again, so hard that it hurt her. 'You must not make this thing, this memorial. She was a whore. She was laughing at Allah and, of course-' The eyes. The eyes were crazy. He laughed. 'That is what happened, you know. He put an end to that.'

'Abe? Are you all right?'

'I'm under house arrest. My boys.'

'Dismas said you were in bed.'

'That would be accurate, but the prescription wasn't bed rest. The doctor just doesn't want to see me out walking the streets, but he'd actually like me to move around a little here.'

'But today? Your heart-'

'Is pumping away even as we speak. I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier myself. I just woke up.'

'That's a long sleep. It's almost eleven o'clock. Are you sure you're OK? Something else didn't happen, did it?'

'No, nothing happened.'

'Really?'

'Really. How are we doing on our work?'

'It's moving along, but I'm not calling about that. I'm calling about you.'

'I'm fine. This is routine. Honest. A couple more days and I'm dancing.'

'But not till the doctor says so, OK?'

'My jailers will see to that.'

'But you yourself?'

'Me myself, too.'

'Would you promise me?'

'I promise.'

It seemed forever before she spoke again. 'All right, then,' she said. 'All right.'

Treya knew that Jonas Walsh took Friday afternoons off, so she had called him at home Thursday night to prevail upon him to let somebody from the firm come by the condo he and Elaine had shared in Tiburon and look at Elaine's things the next day. She wasn't demanding as a matter of law, but requesting as a favor, as a friend. Elaine might have left something lying around that might prove useful to their investigation.

He didn't like it, but the question of what he was going to do with Elaine's belongings was still unresolved. And Treya knew that after his apology in the R &J offices here last week, that she had some leverage. He'd let them look.

She was right.

But that didn't mean he had to be pleasant about it. Walsh shook hands perfunctorily with Curtis Rhodin, but made no effort to try to be friends. 'This is a total waste of some very valuable time.'

Treya had briefed Rhodin about what to expect from Walsh. In any event, it was unlikely the greeting would have thrown Curtis, who was no wimp, off his stride. He exuded confidence and savoir-vivre. At six-three, he towered over the other man. There was no sign of fat on his body, although he carried two hundred pounds to Walsh's one seventy. The charcoal Brioni suit had set him back nine hundred dollars, but he fitted into it so perfectly that it might have been his day-to-day lounging attire. His face was long and slender, his eyes somber. If Modigliani had painted men, Rhodin could have been one of his subjects.

'If you've got somewhere else you need to be, Doctor, I'll be fine here on my own.' They were in a large, bright living room with sparse, almost antiseptic modern furnishings and floor-to-ceiling windows. The condo was set on a hillside overlooking the yacht harbor. The sun was out brightly here twenty-five miles north of the city, and from where they stood in the living room, the panorama was breathtaking – the Marin headlands and Mount Tamalpais on the right, Angel Island and the graceful though largely unsung Richmond Bridge in front of them, a glittering white-capped bay under a robin's egg sky. 'This is beautiful,' Rhodin said. 'I couldn't get any work done if I lived here.'

'This isn't where I work,' the doctor replied, 'and I hope the view won't be too distracting today. I don't really understand all this continuing investigation into Elaine's murder. They've got her killer in jail, for Christ's sake. I'd like to see an end to it.'

Rhodin nodded understandingly and tried to sound prosecutorial. 'We're on the same page, then. But we need to make sure some surprise doesn't come up during the trial. To tell you the truth, I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for. If you've got other plans, that's fine, but if not and you'd like to show me where to look, it might move the process along.'

Reluctantly, Walsh led him into the back of the condo, past the gourmet kitchen – a granite counter-top with dishes piled on it, more dishes stacked in the sink, a strong odor of garbage. There was an office to his left down a short hallway – two desks, two computers, some file cabinets. The bedroom was a few steps further along on the right and Walsh showed him in. He hadn't made the bed and made no apology for it. 'That's her closet,' he said, pointing. 'The near one is her dresser. I'll be in the office.'

Left alone, Rhodin went to work. In spite of what he'd told Walsh, he had received a reasonably specific laundry list from Hardy and Glitsky the day before. Mostly, it was stuff he'd expect to find in the office – a Rolodex file, maybe, or old checkbooks and financial records, perhaps a diary. But there might be something elsewhere – it was worth looking everywhere.