"Not hopeless," he said. "Not at all. I can give you what you need."

"Which is?" She yearned to be skeptical, but because he was Arthur she believed him at once.

"Me. I'm your man. I can say something to you, which I don't think you've really heard before." He took both her hands. "Now, look at me and listen. Listen."

He watched her elegant slender face turn to him fully, the blond lashes and perfect intelligent eyes.

He said, "I forgive you."

She watched him for quite some time. Then she said, "Please say it again."

"I forgive you," said Arthur, as he held her hands. "I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you." He said it several more times after that.

Author's Note.

As usual, I've gotten by with a little help from my friends. Technical advice from Colleen Berk and Joe Tomaino about airline ticketing, from Jeremy Margolis about firearms, from Jay Reich about Hungarian, and from Drs. Michael Kaufman and Carl Boyar about postmortem pathology was critical. I also had the benefit of comments from several discerning readers, Annette and Rachel, first, as always, and then from Jennifer Arra, Debby and Mark Barry, Leigh Bienen, Ellie Lucas, Jim McMa.n.u.s, Howard Rigsby, and the amazing Mary Zimmerman. I am hugely indebted to each of them. Jon Gala.s.si and Gail Hochman remain the moon and stars of my literary life"and Laurie Brown will be special to me forever. My a.s.sistants, Kathy Conway, Margaret Figueroa, and Ellie Lucas, were indispensable. To all: thanks, guys.

end.