“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“So Marta or Vincenzo?” Sebastian asked.

“They’d make the most sense, seeing as they’ve both conveniently ‘disappeared,’” Connor said, then turned to Bert. “This has to be enough reasonable doubt to get me acquitted.”

“Maybe. It’s pretty conspiracy theory-ish, though, so you never know how that’s going to play with a jury. But that’s not the most pressing problem we need to deal with right now.”

Connor laughed bitterly. “Making sure I don’t go to jail for killing my father isn’t the most pressing problem we’ve got?”

“It’s the biggest, just not the most pressing.” Bert sighed. “I think they’re going to try to deny you bail.”

Connor stared. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I already talked to the DA. You’re a billionaire with limitless resources, charged with murder. That makes you a flight risk, and he’s going to press the judge for no bail.”

“You think the judge will agree?”

Bert raised his hands and shrugged, like Who knows?

“This is bullshit!” Connor raged. “They never even questioned me!”

“They said they didn’t want to tip you off so you could run.”

“Bullshit. I’m telling you, Miranda was behind this. She has somebody in the police force under her thumb – maybe even the fucking DA.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Bert said, waving his hands about. “Be careful there. Don’t go around saying things like that in public. It’s not going to help.”

“They arrested me at my father’s funeral, Bert,” Connor fumed. “Why the fuck would they do that?”

“I asked the DA and the police commissioner that,” Bert answered. “I quote: ‘We thought it would be the one place he would absolutely go before trying to leave the country.’”

Connor’s face twisted into a mask of rage. “Even after I’m acquitted, the only thing anybody’s ever going to remember is the headline tomorrow: ‘Billionaire Murderer Arrested At Funeral Of Victim – His Own Father.’ Not only that, but if I’m stuck in jail without bail, Miranda has me out of the way to do whatever the fuck she wants.”

“Don’t panic just yet.”

“When do we find out about the bail?”

“Arraignment’s 8AM tomorrow morning. That’s when they’ll set it.”

“Why can’t they do it now?”

“It’s Sunday. There’s no court on Sunday.”

“You mean, I have to spend the night in jail?” Connor asked, incredulous.

“That’s typically how these things go, yes,” Bert deadpanned.

“This is outrageous!” Sebastian snapped. “He’s a billionaire!”

Bert shrugged. “Well, now you know how the other half lives.”

“We’re supposed to get married in a week,” I protested.

“Murder charges tend to get in the way of that,” Bert said wryly.

“Can you do anything?” Connor asked.

“At this point, not until tomorrow morning. I prepare my argument, we go to court, we see how the cookie crumbles.”

Connor ran his fingers through his hair. “Alright… but I can’t wait around for that. Bert, thanks for coming by, but I need to speak to my people alone.”

“You don’t want me around for this?” Bert asked in surprise.

“Let me ask you a hypothetical question: if there were even the hint of anything illegal in the conversation I’m about to have – ”

“As your counsel, I think I’m going to go stand outside,” Bert said, putting his papers back in his briefcase.

“Thanks.”

Bert said his goodbyes, then walked out the door.

“Illegal?” I asked fearfully.

“I just said that to get him out of the room,” Connor said. “I need you guys to run down everything you can on Miranda, on how my father might have been killed, anything that could help me.”

“How do we do that?” I asked, completely mind-boggled.

“Get in contact with Eve.”

I almost said Who? but then I remembered.

Several weeks before, an old friend of Connor’s named Grant Carlson had visited us asking for help. A fellow billionaire, he’d had a shocking secret hobby that had caused him to run afoul of a particularly nasty character.

The hobby was cat burgling, and the nasty character was a serial killer.

Grant had entered our penthouse by breaking in through the bedroom wall – as in literally kicking through the sheetrock. He’d been accompanied by a beautiful computer hacker named Eve. She’d been helping him try to find out the identity of the serial killer.

 Connor had lent them one of his private jets to get them out of the country, but before they’d left, Connor had joked about hiring Eve one day to help with Miranda.

It seems that day had come.

“As far as we know, they’re still on the run,” I pointed out. “They might even be dead.”

“We’re about to find out. Sebastian – you’ve got Grant’s phone numbers and emails,” Connor said. “Find Grant, and you’ll find Eve. She’ll know what to do.”

There was a commotion at the door. It burst open, and three security guards brushed past Bert as he yelled, “I just stepped out to get some air! This is still a privileged conversation! You’re not allowed in there!”

The lead guard motioned to Connor. “Let’s go.”

Connor turned and kissed me. They let us embrace for five seconds, then they pulled him away.

As they escorted him out of the room, he called back to all of us.

“You know what to do.”