"Don't you dare."

"Well, then, stop with the North Street. I know it's North Street. I'm doing the best I can."

They had reached a stretch of meadowland where the mailboxes were infrequent and the houses were set back from the road.

"Seventy-five. Good. All right, here we go. What's that number? Ninety-four. Come on, one oh six. Come on, one oh six."

"You sound like you're in Vegas."

"I wish I were in Vegas."

"What's the next number? Ninety-eight. Every four numbers. Good. One oh two, one oh six. Come on. Come on. And the next mailbox is..."

A hundred.

"d.a.m.n! That throws the whole thing off!"

The next mailbox was 102.

"Back on track!"

Cora flashed around a curve. There was a driveway at the top of a hill.

"If that's one oh eight, I'm going to lose it."

It was 106.

Cora hit the brakes, screeched into a turn, stopped at the mailbox. In front of her was a two-story frame house with no car in the drive.

"Good. Perfect."

Cora jumped out of the car, raced to the mailbox, and jerked it open.

It was full of mail.

Well, nothing she could do about that now.

Cora reached in her purse, pulled out a gun, thrust it into the mailbox. Pulled it out, double-checked to make sure it was the right one. It was. She put it back in the mailbox and snapped it shut. She took a breath, opened the mailbox, pulled out the gun. She ran back to the car and hopped in.

"Sherry. We have to go to the police. I just found a gun."

CHAPTER.

33.

Chief Harper could not have looked more skeptical had Cora attempted to sell him snake oil.

"You found this gun in a mailbox?"

"That's right."

"On North Street?"

"North Main Street."

"It's just called North Street."

"Oh."

"And how did you come to find it?"

"I'm not prepared to answer that."

"What!"

"There's a gray area here, Chief. I don't want to get into any trouble."

"You don't want to get into any trouble? You're bringing me a gun which is most likely the murder weapon and you won't tell me how you found it and you don't want to get into any trouble?"

"I'm glad you understand the situation."

A vein was bulging in Chief Harper's forehead. "I don't understand the situation. I was trying to ridicule the idea that I understood the situation."

"That's a little harsh on you, Chief. You're usually very good at understanding."

"Cora, so help me, I will come over the desk and strangle you."

"A very inadvisable move, Chief. I can't see any way that would play well on TV."

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm trying to fulfill my civic duty by placing in your hands the evidence that your investigation should have. I mean to cooperate with you in every way."

Chief Harper picked up the plastic Ziploc bag in which Cora had delivered the gun. "If this turns out to be the murder weapon, and there is every indication it will, then you had in your possession the very gun used to kill a key witness against you in your trial."

"It's not a trial, Chief. Just an alimony hearing."

"I don't care if it's a clambake. The witness was shot dead. There's the gun. You had it. You won't explain. You expect me to be happy?"

Cora put up her hand. "To be fair, Chief, I do not expect you to be happy. Even though I've done you a big favor by bringing you the gun."

"Just what do you expect me to do with it?"

"Well, I'm not the chief of police, but if I were you, I would run it down to the lab in Danbury and see if it matches up with the fatal bullet."

"Yeah, great." Harper mopped his brow. "The public and the media are screaming for blood. The prosecutor's needling me to make an arrest. And all I've got is you."

"Whoa. Nasty situation. I suppose I should call my lawyer."

"You don't need a lawyer."

"What is that, Chief, a reverse Miranda warning? 'You have the right to keep talking and not hire an attorney?' Ratface is going to love you for that."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"Even so, I think I wanna speak to my lawyer. I do get one phone call, don't I?"

Chief Harper sat seething while Cora dialed the phone.

"Becky, Cora. I'm in the police station surrendering what looks like the murder weapon, and the police aren't happy with my answers to their questions. Wanna swing by?... Okay, thanks." Cora hung up the phone. "She told me to shut up, she'll be right over."

"Great."

Becky's office was just around the corner. She made it in two minutes flat.

"You stop to put on your lipstick?" Cora said.

"I'd like to talk to my client alone and in private."

"That won't be necessary," Harper said.

"Apparently it will. If I understand the situation, my client has brought you a key piece of evidence, in return for which she has been subjected to a grueling cross-examination. Under the circ.u.mstances, I'm advising my client to make no statement until I've had a chance to confer with her."

"The grueling cross-examination consisted of me asking her where she got the gun."

"Potato, potato," Becky said. "Come on, Cora, let's have a little chat."

Harper gave the women a disgusted look, went out, and closed the door.

Once they were alone, Becky said, "What gives?"

Cora gave Becky a rundown of the situation.

"The evidence points to Melvin?" Becky said.

"He got what appears to be a blackmail note."

"How is that a blackmail note?"

"It points to the gun."

"The gun was next door."

"Exactly. Because the blackmail note doesn't say where he has the gun. It says where he ditched it."

Becky frowned. "That's pretty far-fetched."

"No fair. Anytime you mix a crossword puzzle and a KenKen in with a murder, it's bound to be far-fetched."

"It still has to make sense on its own level."

"I know," Cora said. "And this doesn't. It doesn't make any sense at all. And you know what that means. The police will ignore all subtleties and go straight for the obvious. They'll wind up arresting Melvin."

"So?"

"And you can't represent him."

"Why not?"

"Because you're representing me."

"Oh, for goodness' sakes."

"What?"

"So that's your plan. To hold out on the police so they'll ha.s.sle you, so I'll have to represent you, so I'll be tied up and I can't represent him."

"You have a keen legal mind."

"What makes you think I'd represent him in the first place?"

"You're an attorney. A professional bottom-dweller. You'll represent anybody."

"That isn't true."

"You represented Dennis."

"That's different."

"How is that different?"

"I wasn't representing Sherry."

"Then it's a good thing you're representing me."

"I was already representing you."

"Not for the murder."

"Are you really afraid Melvin is going to get charged with murder and try to hire me?"

"Yeah."