"Don't ask me. She's your partner."

In the gallery, someone chuckled.

"Well, let's find out." Steve circled behind the defense table, barely leaving a wake. He lifted Victoria's hair, wrapped the open collar around her neck, and slid the leather tongue through the loop. "Now, if Ms. Lord wants to stop me from tightening this, let's see what she does."

Victoria reached up with both hands and worked her fingers under the collar. Steve pulled the leather through the loop, trapping her fingers against her neck. She felt her fingernails digging into her flesh. She gasped for air and Steve loosened the collar, bending close enough to her neck that she could feel his breath.

"Let the record reflect that there are fingernail marks on Ms. Lord's neck where she attempted to ward off the collar," he said.

He turned back to the witness. "Doctor, what about Charles Barksdale? Any sign of a struggle? Any scratches, bruises, lacerations, skin under his fingernails?"

"That's five questions," Pincher protested.

"Let's hear five answers," the judge said.

"No. No. No. No. And no," Dr. Yang said.

Steve stood behind Victoria, resting a hand on each of her shoulders. It was an odd sensation, feeling him there but not seeing him. The next sensation was even stranger. One of his thumbs was stroking the nape of her neck.

"No evidence of a struggle," Steve said, in case the judge missed it. "So, apparently, Mr. Barksdale consented to being collared and to having the collar tightened."

"Tightened up to a point, yes."

She felt both his thumbs kneading her neck, like a Swedish ma.s.sage. A pleasant, tingling sensation moved down her torso, and she squirmed in her seat.

"Isn't the bondage, the choking, the s.e.xual paraphernalia consistent with consensual asphyxiophilia?"

"That is correct. It's in the medical journals."

"And the reason it's in the medical journals is because of the occurrence of accidental death during these practices?"

"Accidental death is a known risk, yes."

Steve paused. The witness had made an important concession, and a good lawyer lets helpful words hang in the air before chasing them away. Victoria allowed herself a slight smile. Steve was in control, not only of himself, but of the entire courtroom. He'd been right about one thing he'd told her early on: She could learn from him.

But her mind wasn't totally focused on legal lessons. The mini-ma.s.sage was continuing, and her entire body seemed to be overheating. She wished she could take off her Anne Klein cropped jacket, maybe her silk blouse, too. Did Steve even know what he was doing? She hoped that Katrina, sitting alongside, couldn't see what was going on.

"You cannot rule out the possibility of accidental death, can you, Dr. Yang?" Steve said.

"Could be accident, that's right."

Steve made sure the reporters in the gallery saw him smile. He gave Victoria's neck one last squeeze, released her, and sat down. "Nothing further."

Victoria knew that her face was flushed. She wondered if anyone else noticed. Next to her, Katrina leaned over and whispered. "Before we're done today, do you think he can do that to me, too?"

Dr. Yang had left the courtroom and Homicide Detective Delvin Farnsworth was answering questions by the time Victoria felt her body temperature return to normal. She didn't know Farnsworth but had checked around. A twenty-year veteran with a brush mustache and alert, dark eyes, he had a reputation for honesty and competence. She had read his report, so there no were surprises in his direct testimony.

Paramedics had responded to Mrs. Barksdale's 911 call at 11:39 P.M. on November 16, and after attempts to resuscitate her husband failed, the police were called. When they arrived, Charles Barksdale was naked except for a leather collar and what Farnsworth called a "silver-studded leather t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es pouch with a penile opening." A leather mask with a built-in latex d.i.l.d.o was on the floor nearby.

Mrs. Barksdale told detectives that she had engaged in her customary s.e.x play involving cutting off her husband's air supply to enhance his o.r.g.a.s.m, Detective Farnsworth testified. This time, during a break in the action, something happened, and her husband stopped breathing. That occurred when she was nearly twenty feet from the bed in a wet-bar alcove of the master suite, and she apparently did not immediately realize that her husband was in distress. The detective raised his bushy eyebrows when reciting that tidbit.

Crime-scene techs tagged and bagged various erotic paraphernalia, including leather straps and collars, chains, masks, fleece-lined handcuffs, cat-o'-nine-tails, and what an evidence form termed a "battery-operated a.n.a.l stimulation device."

Steve stood up on cross. "What was Mrs. Barksdale's demeanor when you questioned her?"

"She was crying," Detective Farnsworth said.

"About what you would expect from a woman whose husband just died?"

"Objection, irrelevant," Pincher said.

"Overruled," the judge said.

"I've seen so many reactions, I don't know what to expect anymore," Farnsworth said.

"Just what in your investigation made you conclude that the death of Charles Barksdale was not an accident?"

"The totality of the circ.u.mstances."

"That doesn't tell us much."

"Wasn't intended to."

"What was Mrs. Barksdale's motive for killing her husband?"

"Objection," Pincher said. "Improper foundation. Goes beyond scope of direct. And protected by work product."

"I'll be the judge of that," Judge Schwartz said. He seemed to think about it, then added, "In fact, I am the judge of that. How'd I rule on the last objection?"

"You overruled it," Pincher said.

"Then this one's sustained."

"Let me ask it this way," Steve said. "Did Katrina Barksdale have any reason to kill her husband?"

"I wouldn't know," the detective said.

"Did he deprive her of food, clothing, trips to the South of France?"

"I'd say he provided for her quite well."

"Quite well," Steve repeated. He opened a large portfolio and pulled out a photo blown up to poster size: the Barksdales in formal attire. "That diamond pendant Katrina's wearing at the Attention Deficit Disorder brunch. Who do you suppose bought her that?"

"Wild guess, her husband," Farnsworth said.

Steve moved closer to the witness stand and held up another photo. "What about the aquamarine and diamond brooch she wore to the Stop Bulimia Now dinner?"

"Same guess."

Steve returned to his table and Victoria handed him a file folder thick with receipts. Neiman Marcus. Getz Jewelers. Bavarian Custom Motorcars.

"The generosity went both ways," Steve said. "Did you know that in the last two months before Charles' unfortunate demise, Mrs. Barksdale bought him a sapphire ring, three Zegna suits, and a Breitling Superocean watch, twenty-five jewels, with the extra-large face?"

"She spent a lot of his money. What of it?"

In the gallery, Bobby squirmed in his seat and gestured toward Steve, who caught the movement but shook his head. "What about in these photos? Katrina and Charles look happy?"

"Objection," Pincher said. "It's irrelevant how they looked in photographs."

"How'd I rule last time?" the judge asked.

"You sustained," Pincher said wearily.

"Overruled."

"Do the Barksdales look happy?" Steve repeated.

"I'm a homicide detective," Farnsworth said. "We're not experts on happiness."

Steve pulled out another poster-size photo. "And this shot from the Save the Manatees dinner?"

"He's kissing her. She's got lots of jewelry. What's your question?"

"Does Katrina look like she's about to kill her husband?"

"Probably not that evening."

"How many pictures do you have?" the judge asked, growing bored.

"Hundreds, Your Honor. The joy of this couple was infinite. But let's wrap it up with this one." Steve turned toward the witness but spoke to the reporters. "Three months before he died, Charles Barksdale turned sixty. For a surprise birthday party, Katrina Barksdale sent the whole world a message. She gathered her husband's friends on their boat. She arranged for a band and a gourmet meal. And finally . . ."

He lowered his voice, using the lawyer's trick of garnering more attention with softer words. "Katrina hired an airplane to tow a banner across the sky."

Victoria glanced at Pincher. Why didn't he object? Steve was testifying, not asking a question. Strictly speaking, all of this was irrelevant to bail. Why was the State Attorney as still as a potted plant?

Steve hoisted the airplane photo into view and waltzed along the bar, making sure the reporters had a good look before turning back to the witness. "What does the banner say, Detective Farnsworth? What did Katrina Barksdale proclaim in letters ten feet tall?"

"Katrina loves Charles," Farnsworth said.

"KATRINA LOVES CHARLES!" Steve blared.

"Would it be impolite," Pincher asked, "to inquire what the point of all this is?"

"The point," Steve said, "is that the prosecution has not shown that the proof of guilt is evident or the presumption great. There's no evidence that the death was even a homicide. Indeed, all that's been proven today is that Katrina Barksdale loved her husband very much. The court must therefore release her, pending trial."

Steve ambled back to his chair, circled the prosecution table, and grinned at the gallery. His victory lap. Like he'd just scored from first on a single and wanted the moment to linger. Then he sat down, reaching over to squeeze Victoria's hand. As he did, a tiny spark of static electricity jolted them both.

WIDOW FREE ON MILLION-DOLLAR BOND.

Sky-High Message: "Katrina loves Charles,"

By Joan Fleischman

Herald Staff Writer

Katrina Barksdale, accused of murder in the asphyxiation death of her husband, Charles Barksdale, walked out of the Women's Detention Center today, free on one million dollars bond.

Over the strenuous objections of State Attorney Raymond Pincher, Judge Alvin Schwartz granted bail following a two-hour hearing. "Murderers belong in jail, not free on bail," Pincher said.

Defense lawyers Stephen Solomon and Victoria Lord argued that the state could not even prove Charles Barksdale was murdered, much less that his wife was the guilty party. The defense contends that the 60-year-old construction magnate accidentally suffocated during consensual s.e.x with his 33-year-old wife.

Solomon also introduced a series of photographs of the couple in an attempt to show that they were deeply in love. In one photo, an airplane towed a banner reading, "Katrina Loves Charles."

At a post-hearing press conference, Solomon set the tone for the forthcoming trial. "My client is a woman who loved her husband as much as I love the law," he said.

After turning over a deed to the couple's Gables Estates mansion as security, Katrina Barksdale was released, pending trial.

Twenty-three.

HOW BIG IS YOUR BIGBY?.

Clothes strewn across his bed, Steve dressed for dinner, trying to choose between a boring brown plaid suit he'd bought on sale years ago and a charcoal gray pinstripe job that would be suitable for an execution. Ordinarily, dinner attire meant khaki shorts and a rugby shirt, but tonight Steve had to convince Dr. Doris Kranchick that he was a solid citizen, a marrying man.

"The brown's friendly and the gray's powerful," Steve said, unable to decide.

"Both are dorky," Bobby said. He was drinking a peanut b.u.t.ter and chocolate shake, one of Steve's concoctions to help the boy gain weight. "Didn't you see me waving at you in court?"