Gil was late arriving at the station to give his statement. He had spent most of the morning arranging for Brian's release on bail and calling the hospital about Deborah. When he did reach Mike's office he wasn't surprised to find that his presence wasn't really missed, Jarlayne was comfortably ensconced in Mike's chair while he rested quite happily by the window, one cheek seeking purchase on the narrow sill.

"Mister Petchorik, nice of you to come by."

"Sorry, I was busy at the courthouse freeing my client and then checking on my secretary."

"How is Deb—?"

"How is she—?"

"Fine, to both of you. The doctors say that she can probably go home in two or three days. She'll have to go back for a while but..."

"I'm going to have to get a statement from her too you know." Mike looked apologetic.

"She knows. It's no problem. You can do it while she's still there if you need to." Gil looked around and found a chair in the corner to sit on. "So, how do we do this?"

An hour later they emerged from Mike's office and went downstairs from the squad room. Miriam Spenser-Forbin had arrived home to find police crawling all over her house and her husband dead. She immediately claimed privacy due to shock and was allowed to spend the night in town; She would have to make her husband's funeral arrangements, promising to receive the police the next day for an interview. Gil wanted to call Brian and make sure he was clear on what would be required of him at Moira's trial. The news was not good.

"Moira Weston was released on bail this morning. A representative from her company made all the arrangements. Apparently there is an internal investigation going to take place concerning the sale of stocks yesterday. The shareholders are up in arms."

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Gil did a brief spin on the spot, glaring at nothing in particular. "They agreed to the merger and then dumped the stock or something as soon as the shares were transferred and recorded. Somebody's investigating already. But how could they do it? Myles is dead and Moira was in custody? There was another accomplice!" He stopped, pointing to spot in the sky and turned slowly toward Jarlayne.

"I know," she said. "That other phone number."

Gil pounded his hand. "Right on."

"What number? What are we talking about here?" Mike frowned at their sudden smiles.

***************

Peter Delacourte closed the suitcase and stood it by the door. The taxi would be along in a few minutes and he had time for a quick drink and a final check around the apartment. The money from the trust account, which had been concluded through facilities of his overseas connections were converted to bearer bonds and they were now snugly stacked in bundles in the bank and waiting to be picked up.

Within the folds of his packed clothes was the cash from the sale of his private shares. It was a big risk and it had started the investigation sooner than he'd hoped, but he couldn't resist. He sipped his drink and gazed out the window for what would be the last time, thinking about Moira and Barton. As financial advisor, he had been given signing authority over the corporate shares and when Barton and she were engaged, he had convinced her to assign the same power of attorney for her personal shares.

Pity things broke down the way they did, he mused, a much longer affair with Moira had been in his plans, at least until he had the money safely secured in his own account. Who expected an Arnold Chang to show up waving handfuls of money? Maybe it was for the best, after all, things were still going quite well in that department.

His next to last act was to arrange for Moira's bail with instructions on where to wait for him so that she wouldn't suspect that he wouldn't be joining her any time soon. His last act was to leave a message for Brian where to find Moira.

He heard a horn blast from the street and looking down, he saw the taxi driver standing by the passenger door. Peter finished his drink and grabbed his suitcase; a last look about the room and a jaunty salute and he left, locking the door behind him. The driver took his bag and he watched as it was placed in the trunk and the lid closed before opening the door to get in. His first sight was a shapely stockinged leg, exposed to mid-thigh, angled toward his side of the seat. He dropped down and slammed the door, turning to face his companion.

"Do you have it?" The voice was soft and soothing.

"It's a coded password we present at the pickup point." He laughed and leaned across to kiss the woman, his lips spreading to permit the invasion of her tongue.

"I think it would be wise if we both had the password, Peter. Safety in backups, don't you agree? She fended off his beginning rebuttal by handing him their plane tickets and leaning across for another embrace."

"Absolutely." He puffed, sitting back. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small card with a series of letters and numbers printed on one side. "Had it all ready for you." He leaned forward again, one hand sliding up the firm thigh.

I think we should wait until we tell the driver where he's taking us." Her breathy laugh stirred Peter's desire and he hastily gave the driver his directions, quickly turning back to resume his embrace. "God, you make me crazy," he panted.

She eased him gently away and took out her compact, studying the damage and making precise repairs. "Can't board a plane looking like that, Peter." She wiped at his lips with a tissue, passing the tip of one finger between them. "I have to make one final stop to leave instructions for the disposition of poor Myles. It has to look like all the arrangements for the funeral are proceeding normally. We'll have plenty of time for this very soon."

"And plenty of this for a very long time, Miriam."

•••

Moira avoided going back to her home and instead took a new room at the under the name of Janet Smith. Peter made the suggestion after he had arranged for her bail in order to keep her from being available for any embarrassing questions while he concluded his personal business. Unaware of his maneuvers, Moira waited patiently for her lover to arrive and tell her how he planned for them to get away. When the knock came at the door, she jumped up and ran excitedly to answer, throwing it wide and staggering back in stunned disbelief.

"Brian!"

"Hello Moira." He stepped into the room and shut the door, watching her stumble backwards in shock.

"How- what are you- how did you find...?"

"Your lover told me, Moira. Remember your lover? Peter?" He crossed slowly toward her. "He told me how you and Myles schemed together with those tapes that resulted in Barton's death. Remember Barton, Moira?"

"Peter...told...you...?" She tripped over the chair leg and fell back onto the carpet, grasping at the front of her gown to pull it closed.

"Is this modesty I see, Moira," he asked, sneering, as he came and stood over her. "Goodness, after what I heard on the phone that night I would have thought you beyond any display of modesty." He reached down and grabbed her wrist roughly, yanking her to her feet. "You set me up, you bitch, and all the while you pretended to be in love with me."

"Like you're some saint," she spat, recovering slightly and trying to pull free. "Do you think I believed your lies for a minute? Peter told me about you—"

He dragged her over to the back of the couch and held her arms firmly. "Peter! You think Peter was on your side? You stupid, stupid woman. Peter was playing his own game, one that's going to end soon. Who do you think sicked Myles onto you? You think that was your doing? Poor used Moira." He bared his teeth and hissed a dark laugh. "Might as well live up to your definition, Moira." Roughly, he spun her around and forced her over the back of the sofa, holding her in place with one hand while he pulled up the back of her gown.

"No! Brian, please!" She tried to struggle but she was too far off balance to gain any purchase.

"No pants! How convenient for me," he snarled nastily. "All ready for good old Peter, were you?" With a deft move, he undid his pants and battered into her with bruising force, cheering as she screamed out in pain. "Come on, Moira, let's here all those sexy comments now!"