"I wanted to ask how you were, but you seemed like you didn't want to talk to me. Then you had a fight with that woman " Her voice trailed off.

"Ginny Fistoulari," I told her more abruptly than I intended.

"My former partner."

She nodded like I'd confirmed a guess.

"I had to go back to the office to finish some business," she went on.

"I wasn't sure I should come here again. But I finally asked myself"

her smile grew stronger "what's the worst that could happen? You could tell me to get lost. I wouldn't enjoy that, but I've survived worse."

Then she frowned.

"I liked Mr. Appelwait. And I hated that detective, Sergeant Moy. I don't think he cares."

While she talked, I guided her through the crowd until we reached the comparative privacy of the wall. As her nervousness wound down, I took a chance by saying, "I'm glad you came. I'm sorry I gave you the impression I might not want to see you. I had a lot on my mind."

"I'm sure you did," she put in quickly.

"Please don't " With an effort, she caught herself.

"I'll tell you what, Brew." This time her smile was so clear that you could've used it to land aircraft.

"I'll stop apologizing if you'll talk to me."

I ached to put my arms around her, and the strain of swallowing the impulse made me sound hoarse.

"You don't have anything to apologize for. Of course I'll talk to you."

A brick wall probably could've said the same with better grace.

Still smiling, she said, "OK, then. If you don't mind " By degrees she turned serious.

"I still don't really know what happened to Mr. Appelwait. Can you tell me?"

I cleared my throat. No question about it, I wanted to tell someone.

But I wasn't sure how much I could afford to say.

"There isn't a lot," I admitted.

"We had a team working the hall, three picks and a drop." Being cautious, I didn't mention the spot.

"They're " "I know what they are," she assured me.

"I've talked to a lot of cops since I starting working for Watchdog."

That made the explanation easier.

"They began to leave," I went on.

"I think they caught me watching them. Bernie told me to corral the spots. He went after the drop. The evidence." I couldn't keep a grimace off my face.

"Once Security had the picks, I tried to catch up with him. But I was too late.

"He must've cornered the drop in the men's room. That's what it looked like, anyway." As soon as I said the words, an intuitive alarm went off in the back of my head, but I didn't know what it meant.

"Apparently the drop decided to fight his way out."

A definite alarm. Something I'd just said wasn't right.

Deborah shuddered delicately, then looked at me hard.

"Do you think the cops will find him?"

"No." Suddenly I knew I was right.

"Why not?"

"Because," I said like reading it off the inside of my skull, "they're looking for the wrong man.

"There was someone else in the men's room. Someone Bernie knew."

Someone working with the drop. The spot?

"He killed" murdered "Bernie to shut him up."

She stared at me in surprise and shock.

"Who?"

I shrugged bitterly.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't feel so useless."

Who could possibly have considered Bernie worth killing? What in God's name was going on?

Song Duk Soon had left the hall ahead of Bernie and the drop.

There wasn't anything to kill for here. Even the chops weren't that precious.

I didn't understand it. Nevertheless my instincts had told me the truth. About that I felt no doubt whatsoever.

Luckily Deborah didn't ask if I'd said any of this to Moy. Instead she inquired, "So what are you going to do?"

That was easier.

"Turn it over to Marshal Viviter. I'm stuck here for the duration. And he has resources I don't. I'll tackle it myself when this" I indicated the tournament "is over."

She opened her mouth to say something. Whatever it was, however, she thought better of it. She chewed her lower lip for a moment, looking embarrassed. Then she surprised me by asking awkwardly, "Mr. Viviter?