Dirks gestured toward the unknown men. "Detective Caine, Detectives Ramsay and Brandl, 86th. Ramsay's the primary on the death of Jason Fischer."

Peter nodded at the two and turned his head to stare at Dirks. "It takes four of you to talk to me?"

"We're here to question you as part of our investigation," Ramsay answered. "Your IA people are here to decide if there was any wrongdoing on your part. Killing two birds with one stone, so to speak."

Peter smiled faintly. "Is it all right if I sit down, or you want me to stand in a corner somewhere?"

"Still the hotshot smart-ass, aren't you, Caine?" Dirks snorted, shaking his head.

Peter pulled out a chair and sat down. "You'll have to forgive me, gentlemen. I've just spent the last two weeks at the hospital while I waited to see if my wife and child lived or died. It's kind of put me in a bad mood."

Baake idly drummed his fingers on the tape recorder before him. "Look, Caine, we understand the stress you've been under the past several weeks --"

"Do you?" Peter asked coldly.

"Detective Caine, we're just trying to do our job here, all right?" Brandl folded his hands on top of the table. "The commissioner is breathing down our necks, the mayor calls every day, and our captain is definitely not in a good humor. Can we cut the crap and get on with things?"

Peter stared at the man's face and was impressed with the way Brandl met his gaze. "You're right. I apologize for my earlier comments. I'm here to cooperate in any way I can."

Dirks took charge once again. "You're aware that we will be taping this interview, Detective Caine?"

"I'm familiar with the drill."

"We're going to allow Detectives Brandl and Ramsay to do the main questioning, but if we feel it necessary to clarify a point, we'll jump in."

Peter nodded his head. "I'm ready."

"Do you know why you're here?" Ramsay asked.

"I've been told you are conducting an investigation into the death of Jason Fischer. What I'm not sure of is what you want with me."

"Why should you be surprised that we wanted to talk with you? Your wife was with Fischer when he died."

Peter's eyes narrowed, and he felt his scalp crawl. "I wouldn't exactly say being unconscious in the same room qualifies as 'being with' someone."

"How do you know she was unconscious the whole time?"

Peter sat up a little straighter. "She was sick. She was delirious. We all saw that in the computer monitor. When she arrived at the hospital, the EMTs said they'd found her unconscious and unresponsive."

"How do you know she wasn't...responsive...earlier?" Ramsay stared, unblinking, at Peter.

Leaning forward, Peter growled, "What are you trying to say?"

The Ramsay and Brandl exchanged looks before returning their attention to Peter. Ramsay watched Peter's face carefully for reaction as he replied, "After interviewing EMS personnel, and the coroner attending Fischer's body, there was evidence to indicate Fischer was attempting sexual intercourse with your wife when he was killed."

Peter gripped the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. "It never happened. The doctors at the hospital would have told me if it had. She would have told me."

"Not if she doesn't remember it." Ramsay folded his arms across his chest, and the other three men watched and waited for Peter's response.

Peter blinked rapidly, trying to digest this bit of information, then shook his head firmly. "No. Whoever the somebody was that killed that vermin saved her from that."

"Who do you think killed him?"

"I have no idea. That tape you have in your hand indicates, as well as Officer Blake's testimony, that I was in a completely different section of the city at the time my wife was found."

"What would you like to tell us about the tape?"

"Nothing."

"Are you now refusing to cooperate with this investigation, Detective Caine?" Baake sat up straight in his chair and leaned across the table toward Peter.

Peter shrugged calmly. "Not at all. I'm sure you've listened to Blake's tape -- repeatedly." He failed to completely cover the sneer in his voice. "It has nothing to do with Fischer's death, and I have nothing to add to it."

"Nothing to do with his death. Why were you with Sara Rezac in the first place? Your fellow detectives here were closing in on the house where Fischer was keeping your wife. What was the plan? Keep her busy until they could get to him and take him out? Would you care to explain --"

Peter jumped to his feet. "Explain what? The woman forced me to perform physical acts with her. When my performance didn't meet her expectations, she became violent. I reacted by backhanding her and knocking her to the floor. She became enraged, suffered some kind of stroke, and died." Through sheer force of will, he seated himself again and continued in a tightly controlled voice. "While I was busy trying not to throw up, the door burst open. I threw myself off the side of the bed, and smacked my head against the lamp table, knocking myself out. The next thing I remember was Detective Blake talking to me. Plan? Hell, the only plan I had was not to have a plan! I had no idea at the time that anyone had a clue as to where Kacie was."

"Anything else, Detective?"

"No." Struggling to compose himself, Peter sat back down in his chair with a thump.

"What do you know about the throwing star that severed Fischer's spinal cord?" Brandl asked calmly, completely ignoring Peter's earlier outburst.

"You mean that particular star, or any kind of throwing star?"

"That one."

"I don't know anything about it. I already told you: I wasn't there."

"Your father is a martial arts expert, is he not?"

"My father is a Shaolin priest and a Shambhala master. He has expert knowledge in the use of all martial arts weapons, but isn't in the habit of using them to kill."

"Not even to protect his pregnant daughter-in-law?" Ramsay asked, his voice reflecting his disbelief.

Peter could see where this was going, and laughed mirthlessly. "My father says there is always another way. He wouldn't have killed Fischer. He would have disabled the guy with a pressure-point hold, and immediately begun treating my wife. My father feels there is value in all life, even worthless slime like Fischer."

"So you're saying your father would not have been enraged by the brutalization of your wife? That the possible miscarriage of his grandchild wouldn't push him over the edge? That he is above such human emotions?"

"My father has incredible self-control."

"Unlike you?"

"I didn't know we were talking about me again." Peter stared scornfully at the detectives. "Anybody can get martial arts weapons from any one of a dozen shops in this city. Those things are easier to buy than a handgun." Peter shifted his weight in his chair. "Are we about through here? I'd like to get back to work. You know. Solve crime, put the bad guys away." He glared defiantly at all of them. "Am I free to go?"

Dirks looked at the detectives from the 86th, and they nodded.

Baake dismissed Peter with a wave of the hand. "We'll be in touch, Detective Caine."

Peter opened the door, but couldn't resist a parting sarcastic shot before he exited. "Oh, I'll be looking forward to hearing from you. I'll be sure and save you a place on my social calendar."

He stalked out the door, closing it firmly behind himself.

Simms was waiting for him, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

Clapping his hands together, he rubbed them briskly. "I think that went rather well."

"I'm glad you think so, but I doubt that remark about your social calendar earned you any points."

Peter's attempt to look ashamed of himself fell short. "My father would say I still need lessons in self-control."

To Part 4

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