Becky showed up ten minutes later. She looked like a million bucks in a casual cream-colored silk shirt that complemented her understated makeup. Cora figured she'd taken the extra time to achieve the effect.

Her attitude, however, was no-nonsense. "All right, what's the story?"

"Your client was apprehended breaking into Wilbur's barn."

Cora waved her hand. "Pffft!"

"There. As my client so correctly says, pffft! I'm not sure if that's an official legal pleading, but it ought to be. Do you have anything else?"

"There was a shot fired."

"By my client?"

"I'm not making any claims. I'm just presenting facts."

"You'd better present 'em in a way that accounts for your detaining my client. Otherwise, you are going to be one unhappy prosecutor."

"Nonsense. We have a case of breaking and entering and shots fired. It has to be investigated. Your client is at worst a principal and at best a witness. We need her story. Unfortunately, she is a defendant in a murder investigation. So we're being very scrupulous and dealing with her through her attorney, even though she herself feels there is no need."

"You tell him that?" Becky asked Cora.

"I saw no reason to ruin your evening."

"Blowing your defense would probably ruin it more," Becky said. "You mind if I confer with my client?"

"Go ahead. I'll be right outside."

Henry Firth went out and closed the door.

"All right, what have you done now?" Becky demanded.

Cora gave her a short rundown of the situation.

Becky was not pleased. "You broke into his barn?"

"It sounds bad when you say it like that. You should try an amused inflection, like, 'You broke into his barn?' "

"I'm trying very hard to keep you out of jail. You're not helping much. Now I gotta defend you on a breaking and entering charge."

"No, you don't. I already admitted the breaking and entering. There's nothing to defend."

"You admitted it?"

"I told Chief Harper. It seemed the thing to do. Being caught red-handed, and all."

"What did I tell you about not making a statement except in my presence?"

"That was about the murder. This is just a break-in."

"Cora-"

"It's all right, dear. Since I've admitted it, we're in a nice position. I have nothing to hide, I can tell 'em what they want to know, and go home."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"If that were going to work, they'd have done it already."

"They would have. But Ratface wouldn't let me talk without you present."

"You wanted to talk, but he made you wait for me?"

"Yeah."

"I don't like it."

"I hate it like hell, but that's what happened. So what's up?"

"I don't know. Let's get him back and ask him."

Becky went out and returned with Henry Firth. The prosecutor seated himself at the head of the table. Becky sat next to Cora.

"Miss Felton, you now have your attorney present, as I suggested. I am going to ask you some questions with regard to the break-in at Wilbur's Antiques."

"Alleged break-in," Becky amended.

Henry Firth smiled. "Well, I think the break-in is pretty much a fact."

"I thought Mr. Wilbur wasn't pressing charges."

"That doesn't mean there wasn't a break-in. Come on, now. No one's taking this down. Let's not be technical."

"You're not going to be technical and construe any of my client's answers as incriminating?"

"Only if she's done something wrong. You haven't done that, have you, Miss Felton?"

"No, but I'm about to. Talk to us like equals, not morons."

"I'd be glad to. We'd be on slightly more equal footing if I'd broken into someone's house in the middle of the night, but I'll let it pass. Since no one's pressing charges, let's say you were there legally. What happened then?"

"This is not binding on my client?"

"With regard to breaking and entering? No. That charge has been dropped."

"Are you implying there are other charges?"

"Are you implying your client's done something wrong?"

"No, I'm not," Becky said irritably. "She's been charged with murder and she didn't do that either. You want to speed things along? I'd like to get out of here and go home."

"I'd like nothing better myself. Which is why I'm here. To advise you on your legal limits. I'm telling you Miss Felton can discuss being in Wilbur's barn."

"Without incriminating herself?"

"If she stole something from the barn, that would be illegal. If she killed someone in the barn, that would be illegal. In either case, she would be liable for prosecution. But as far as being in the barn goes, you have nothing to fear."

"Good," Cora said. "That's all I did, and I'd like to go home."

"I have a few questions."

"With regard to the crime that didn't happen?" Cora inquired sweetly.

"You're forgetting the shooting. That's certainly a crime, and that certainly happened. What can you tell me about that?"

"Not a thing. I heard a shot. A bullet whizzed by my head. I took a step back, fell, and was knocked unconscious."

"A bullet whizzed by your head?"

"Yes."

"It was dark. How did you know?"

"I heard it. Right after the explosion. It was like nothing I've ever heard before. Like someone frying eggs in my ear."

"You heard that?"

"For a second. Before the thud of the bullet hitting the wall."

"The shot took you by surprise?"

"I'll say."

"No advance warning?"

"None at all. I didn't hear anything. I didn't see anything. Suddenly, bang!"

"No time to defend yourself?"

"How?"

"I believe you carry a gun."

"So?"

"Did you draw your gun? Aim it at your attacker? Try to shoot back?"

"She told you what she did," Becky interposed. "Move on."

"She told me what she did. I'd like her to tell me what she didn't do."

"She doesn't have to. Move on."

"I'd like an answer."

"Oh, stop haggling," Cora said. "The answer is no. I didn't go for my gun. I didn't even think of my gun. I thought, 'Oh, my God, I've been shot!' I started back and tripped."

"You thought you'd been shot?"

"I thought I'd been shot at. I didn't know whether I'd been hit. Whether any second a searing pain would go raging through my body. I wasn't, and it didn't. The point is, it all happened too fast for me to do anything."

"You didn't fire your gun?"

"Of course I didn't fire my gun," Cora said irritably. "Could you get on to something that matters?"

"Oh, these questions all matter. Some of them are preliminary, but, believe me, they matter. The gun was in your purse?"

"You should know. You've got it."

"Uh-huh." Henry Firth popped his briefcase open, pulled out a plastic bag. "This was also in your purse. A crossword puzzle. It's been solved, and the theme answer is suggestive. It suggests an antiques shop."

"If you say so."

"The puzzle has been solved in pencil. Is that your handwriting?"

"Actually, it's my niece's, Sherry's. She solved the puzzle."

"Uh-huh. And where did you get it?"

"It was stuck on the windshield of my car."

"Where was your car?"

"In the mall parking lot."

"What were you doing in the mall?"

"I went to Starbucks for coffee." Cora saw no reason to volunteer the information that the coffee in question was actually a Frappuccino the size of Vermont. "When I got back to my car, the puzzle was on the windshield. I gave it to Sherry because she likes to solve puzzles. I don't. I find solving crossword puz- zles profoundly boring. If it ever gets out I said that, I will find you and I will kill you."

"Never fear. The point is, this was on your windshield and it wound up in your purse. And it somewhat suggestively refers to antiques."

"So far, that suggestion has come from you."

"Do you deny that it was the puzzle that made you look in Wilbur's barn?"

Becky held up her hand. "Oooh. Bad word, deny. You really didn't want to use that word, did you? It suggests an adversarial relationship under which one needs to rely on the protection of one's counsel."

"I certainly wouldn't want to do that." Henry Firth reached in his briefcase, brought out another plastic bag, slid it in front of Cora and Becky. "Here's a solution grid. Would you mind comparing it to the crossword puzzle in front of you?"