The call about a murdered woman came in just before shift change at 2 p.m.  Stella and Amos rushed out the door, Amos muttering something about his wife being angry because he'd be late again.

Stella couldn't make out what he said, so she checked to be sure her hearing aids were working.  They were, and she hoped what Amos was going on about was so soft that even people with perfect hearing couldn't make it out.  So far, her hearing loss hadn't interfered with her job, and she hadn't even told her supervisor about it.  But at the next physical, it might be caught.  She didn't know what might happen then.  All she could do was keep on keeping on.

The late fall sunlight cast a glow over the city's main police station's parking lot, the faint asphalt smell much less than in the summer's glare, but still sometimes making Stella sneeze.  Her heart beat faster at the idea of an interesting case.

After they climbed into their cruiser and dispatch gave them the address, Stella felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.  Dispatch was trying to get the apartment number, and Stella held her breath until it came.  Then she let it out with an audible whoosh.

"Male or female victim?" she asked dispatch.

"Female." 

Amos made a sharp right turn then glanced at her.  "You don't look so good."

"That's Tricia's place."

His eyes widened.  "Your friend, Tricia?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, the Loo isn't going to like this.  He'll probably take you off the case."

"I know.  But I'm not telling him until I have to.  You'd better not, either, or I'll never forgive you."

"You sure you'll be all right?"

Stella clenched her fists.  "Yes."

Amos gave her a dubious look, then shrugged.  "Okay.  Your funeral.  Oops, poor choice of words."

"It's okay, Amos.  I'm tough.  You know that."

"Yeah.  I do."  A quick smile made his white teeth flash against his chocolate-colored skin.  Affection for him welled up in her--his friendship meant a lot to her.  Not to mention he was an excellent cop.

They arrived at the address and hustled inside the building.  Took the elevator to the tenth floor, and walked through the open door to Tricia's familiar apartment.  The smell almost made Stella gag, and she felt faint when she saw her best friend sprawled on the living room rug, a bullet hole in her neck.  She wanted to rush to her, kneel down and take her in her arms.  "Tricia," she whispered.

She made herself stand there in order to collect herself.  She could feel Amos watching her, but she didn't dare look at him. 

"Who found her?" she asked the room at large.

A uniformed officer took a step toward her and Amos.  Cleared his throat.  "Her husband."

Cory.  The husband Tricia had just found out was being unfaithful.  Wonderful.  A made-to-order stereotypical suspect.  Case solved.

"Where is he?" 

"In the guest bedroom."

"When's the ME due?" Amos asked.

"Any minute."

"Let's wait for him," Amos suggested to Stella.

The uniform cleared his throat.  "Her, sir."

Amos made a dismissive gesture with his hand.  "Whatever.  Whoever."

Henrietta Gallager stepped into the apartment, black bag in hand, wearing a mid-calf-length wool skirt, white blouse and tweed jacket.  Sensible low-heeled black shoes.  She had broad features--wide eyes, large nose and generous mouth--and brown hair, graying at the edges.  She paused at the victim's feet and mouthed a silent prayer, her usual S.O.P.  Stella was glad to see Henrietta.  She would treat Tricia with utmost respect.  All the Medical Examiners were respectful, but Henrietta seemed to be even more so. 

They waited for Henrietta's preliminary assessment.  She knelt down and checked for pulse, respiration, and reflexes first, and pronounced Tricia dead.  Stella looked away as Henrietta continued her exam.  Get through this part and she wouldn't have to look at Tricia anymore, and she should be okay.  Sure.

Stella watched the techs circling the perimeter of the room, noticing the almost perfect high heeled footprints in the blood beside the body and the two wine glasses on the coffee table.  Finally Henrietta stood up and said, "Bullet to the neck probably killed her instantly.  I don't find any other wounds on a preliminary exam, but will have more information after the autopsy."

"Time of death?" Amos asked.

"Within the last two hours, I'd say.  Again, we'll know more later."  Henrietta removed her gloves, picked up her bag and left the room.

"Let's go interview Cory," Stella said.

"Husband?" Amos asked.

"Yes."

They found Cory sitting on the guest room bed, hands clasped between his knees, head bent.  He must have heard them enter because he looked up and started when he saw Stella.  His handsome face looked anguished.  He wore a blue suit and subdued blue and white striped tie.  Brown eyes, brown hair.

Stella cleared her throat.  "I'm sorry, Cory.  And I'm sorry we have to ask you some questions, but under the circumstances . . "

He swallowed hard.  "It's all right.  What difference does it make if I answer questions or do something else?  It won't change anything.  I just have to get through the days now."

He sounded sincere, and Stella wondered if he still loved Tricia, in spite of the affair Tricia had just told her about a week ago.

"We're going to have to go down to the station," Amos said.  "Your whole apartment is a crime scene until the techs are finished.  So, if you'll come with us."

"Yeah, sure."

In a bare-bones interview room at the station, Stella asked Cory where he'd been for the last five or six hours. 

He took a sip of coffee they'd brought him and said, "I was at work all morning.  Around one I found I'd left an important file in my office at home.  When I got there, I found Tricia."  He couldn't go on.  He put his hands over his face and rocked in his chair.

"Take your time," Stella said.  She had trouble watching him, but tried to distance herself from his show of pain to see if it was genuine.  Seemed to be.

They went over his story several more times, but it didn't change.  Also, Tricia noticed sardonically, Cory wasn't wearing high heel shoes.  And it didn't seem likely that he would have sat with his wife at noontime drinking wine instead of rushing back to work.  She asked him if Tricia was having trouble with anyone in particular lately, either at work or socially. 

"Not with Rita.  Something going on with Candy Towers, though.  She didn't give me the details.  We've both been extra busy lately and didn't get a chance to talk much."

"Yes," Stella said, "I'm sure having a mistress takes away time from your wife."

Cory turned beet red.  "What--what do you mean?"

"Tricia knew, Cory.  You didn't know she knew?  Who was the woman?"

Again, Cory put his head in his hands which, Stella noticed, were trembling.  She tried to imagine the emotions going through the man, but they must be a jumble.  And entirely different depending on whether he killed his wife or someone else did.

"Cory?  Who was she?  How long has it been going on?  We'll need all the details, and what you don't tell us, we'll be able to find out eventually, anyway."

Cory put his hands down on the table and sighed.  "Her name is Emma Cradberry.  She's a neighbor--Apartment 702.  We used to run into each other every evening when we took out the trash."  He grinned.  "Not very romantic, I know, but we talked, and we found out we wanted to talk more, and one thing led to another .. ."

"How long?"

"About a month.  I mean, before that, we were just friends.  We've known each other for almost a year."

"What's she look like?"

Cory seemed surprised by the question.  "She's short--barely five feet tall.  Dark brown hair, brown eyes, pretty."

"And what does she do?  Is she married?"

"Not married.  She's a personal trainer.  At Gold's Gym."

"You know if she has a gun?"

Cory looked shocked.  "No.  I have no idea."

"She and Tricia know each other, even casually?"

"Yes.  They met at what we called block parties--parties for the whole complex.  Just a few times.  They never became friends."

"All right," Stella said.  "We have Candy Towers who was having some kind of work-related problem with Tricia, we have Emma Cradberry who was your mistress, and we have you."  She stared at Cory.

"Stella, I didn't do it.  I couldn't!  No way.  I wasn't mad at Tricia or anything.  I wasn't thinking about a divorce.  I . . . I guess I was just having a fling.  I loved Tricia."

"You say, Cory."  Stella stood up.  "You have anything else to tell us that might help?"

"No.  I don't know who, or why.  I want you to find out.  I need to know."  He stood up, as well.  "Can I go now?  I don't even know where to go."  He looked lost and helpless.

Stella bit back a reply suggesting he either go see Emma or go to hell. 

After they sent Cory on his way, a uniformed officer stopped them in the hall to report that although they were still canvassing the neighbors, they had a tip that a woman was seen entering and leaving the apartment around the estimated time of death.

"Description?" Amos asked, pulling his notebook from his inner suit jacket pocket.

"Blond, probably late twenties, medium height.  She was wearing a long cloth coat--dark blue, and high heels, also dark blue.  Hard to tell her weight because of the coat--it was full-length and looked large on her."

"All the better to conceal something like a gun, my dear," Amos said to Stella. 

"Yes," Stella said and thanked the uniform.  She watched him walk away.  "Doesn't match Cory's description of Emma.  But Tricia's boss is late twenties, blond, and last time I saw her was wearing a long, dark blue coat."

Amos raised an eyebrow.  "A suspect!  Let's go."

Stella gave Amos the address of the ad agency as he left the parking lot.  A few colorful leaves fell from the one tree at the edge of the lot as they drove by.  "I don't know why Rita would want to murder Tricia.  They seemed to have a good working relationship."

"Might have nothing to do with work."

"No.  Might not."  Stella heard a tiny squeal in her ear and quickly pushed her hearing aid more firmly into place.  The right one worked itself out every so often, which caused feedback, just like a microphone being tested at a band concert, but not nearly as loud, thank goodness.  She didn't know if Amos was aware of her aids, but she suspected he was.  He was a good detective, after all, and quite observant.  But he hadn't mentioned them, and she didn't know how to bring up the subject, or if she was ready to yet. 

They arrived at the office building, took the elevator to the Branson's Advertising suite, and found it locked up tight.  "Friday afternoon," Stella grumbled.  "I forgot they have it off if they're far enough ahead, which of course was why Tricia was home this afternoon.  She really liked Rita and the way she ran the agency.  High expectations, but willing to let the agents do their assignments with little oversight unless they ran into trouble.  Now we'll have to find Rita's home address."

They went back to their cruiser and Stella called dispatch.  In less than a minute, she was given the address, and they headed out to the suburbs.

Rita recognized Stella when she opened the door to her colonial McMansion, her expression going from pleasure at seeing her to alarm when she looked at Amos, so obviously a police officer.  "Stella, what's wrong?"  Rita opened the door wider, and Stella and Amos entered the vast two-story entry hall. 

"We have bad news.  Probably should go somewhere where you can sit."

"Oh, of course."  Rita's hands fluttered, making many rings sparkle.  She wore blue slacks, a cream cable-knit sweater and navy flats.  Her rather sharp features seemed to sharpen as she sat down and looked at Stella expectantly.

Stella introduced Amos, then said, "It's about Tricia.  I'm sorry to say, she's dead.  Murdered."

Rita gasped.  "No!  Where?  When?"

"At her apartment.  Just a few hours ago.  Cory found her."

Rita couldn't seem to stop shaking her head.  "Who did it?  Do you know?"

"Not yet.  Cory tells us that Tricia and Candy Towers were having some kind of problem at work.  You know anything about that?"

Rita frowned.  "They both wanted the same assignment.  I gave it to Tricia, and Candy didn't take it well.  Sniped at Trish whenever she could.  It irritated Tricia, of course, but I figured she could handle it okay."

Stella nodded.  "I hate to ask you this, but it's necessary.  Where were you between eleven and one o'clock today?"

"Right here.  Alone, I'm afraid.  Surely you don't think I .. . "

"Just covering all the bases," Amos said.  "We'll be asking everyone Ms. Adams knew."

"Yes, of course.  I don't know what else I can tell you.  I am totally shocked.  I don't have any idea who I know, or who Tricia knew, who could do such a thing."

"Did Tricia seem any different to you the past few days?" Stella asked.

Rita took a moment to think.  "A bit distracted, maybe.  Come to think of it, I think there was something on her mind.  She snapped at me, and at our receptionist a couple of times."

Stella thought of both Cory and Candy.  Either one of them could have been a distraction for Tricia.  She didn't think Rita did it.  Of course, Rita could be a pathological liar, but Stella thought not.  She stood up, and so did Amos and Rita.

"Do you own a gun?" Stella asked.

"No.  No, I don't.  Never have."

"Thank you for your time.  We'll be in touch if we need anything more."  Stella held out her hand, and Rita shook it.

Back in the cruiser, Stella said, "I think it's time we interviewed Candy."

"Agree.  Rita seemed credible."

"Yes.  I see no motive, and I don't think she's the type who solves problems with violence."  Stella got the address for Candy's place from Dispatch.  The late afternoon had turned gloomy, matching Stella's mood. 

Candy opened the door to her upscale, uptown apartment.  Stella had only met her once at an office party Tricia had invited her to.  She remembered that Cory had gotten a bit sloshed, but he was funny when drunk instead of obnoxious.  She'd thought Candy was over-the-top, even for an advertising agent.  She and Cory had almost, but not quite, made fools of themselves.  Today Candy wore black tights with a frilly red tunic, too much makeup, too much jewelry, but barefoot.  Maybe her feet hurt from wearing high heels all day.  Or maybe her shoes were bloody.

After they showed her their badges and introduced themselves, Candy not seeming to remember Stella, they sat in an over-decorated living room.  Candy looked shocked when Stella told her Tricia had been murdered. 

"Of course," Stella said, "we have to interview everyone Tricia knew.  How did you and she get along?"

"Great!" Candy said brightly.  "We both love--loved--advertising.  We each had our own assignments, but Rita held a meeting every week where we went over everything, threw out suggestions to each other.  It's a fabulous place to work."  She crossed her legs and leaned back in her overstuffed chair.

"So you had no quarrel with Tricia?"

"No."

"We understand you and she both wanted the same assignment, and Rita gave it to Tricia.  No hard feelings about that?"

"Of course not!"  Candy uncrossed her arms and leaned forward  "There will be other assignments, and we'll both want them.  Oh!"  She covered her mouth with her hand.  "That won't be possible now.  Oh!"  Her hand moved to her ear, and she pushed her index finger against it. 

Stella immediately recognized the gesture of pushing a hearing aid into place.  She did it enough herself.  Interesting.  She wondered if Rita knew about Candy's hearing loss.  She bet not.  Also interesting was that either Rita was lying about Candy and Tricia being on the outs, or Candy was.

"You own a gun?" Amos asked, his pen poised over his notebook, his face stern.

Candy looked startled.  "No.  I don't believe in gun ownership."

"Really?" Amos said.  "A single woman in the city . "

"I carry pepper spray.  That's legal, right?"

"Yes."  Amos made a note in his notebook and shifted in his chair, a sign that he doubted a witness's veracity.  Stella smiled inwardly, grimly. 

"You ever been in Tricia's apartment?" Stella asked.

"No.  We only saw each other at the office.  But we became close."

Maybe fingerprints would show that Stella had been in that apartment.  Of course, it would only prove her a liar, not a murderer.  Stella stood up.  "That's all the questions we have for now.  Thank you for being so forthcoming."  Sometimes she surprised herself at how glibly she was able to toss out standard phrases and sound sincere.

Candy and Amos rose, and they all shook hands.

In the cruiser, Amos asked, "What did you think?"

"I think she lies very well.  The question is what's the truth, and what are the lies?"

"True."  Amos chuckled, and Stella grinned.

"I want to go back to the apartment, Amos.  I admit I was pretty shook up when we were there the first time.  I need to see it again, without Tricia being there, without anyone else, but you, being there."

"Okay."  Amos headed crosstown, and they arrived in about ten minutes.

When they arrived, a uniformed officer was affixing crime-scene tape to the door of Tricia's apartment.  He knew Stella and Amos and let them through. 

The apartment was quiet and still, sunlight barely lighting the front hall and the living room.  Stella took a deep breath and walked around.  The bloodstain hadn't been cleaned up--that was up to the owner to do, and she avoided looking at it.  Everything else looked just as she'd always seen it except for the faint dusting of fingerprint powder. 

After she'd walked slowly through the whole apartment, she sat down on the couch.  How many times had she sat here, talking to Tricia, and sometimes Cory?  Amos stood in the doorway to the dining room, watching her, arms crossed.

"You think the husband did it?"

Stella sighed.  "I don't know.  I really don't know.  He had the best motive.  And even if he still did love her, that alone doesn't rule him out."

She rubbed her hand over the cushion next to her, and when she looked down saw something shiny winking up at her in the crease between the cushions.  "What's this?"  She stared at it without picking it up and was astonished to see a tiny hearing aid battery. 

Amos walked over.  "Watch battery?"

"No.  Hearing aid."  Now was as good a time as any to tell him.  "Maybe you guessed I'm wearing some myself right now.  But this battery looks is a bit bigger than the ones I use."

Amos smiled.  "At last.  Yeah, I knew, but thought it best to let you tell me in your own good time.  If that isn't yours, whose could it be?"

"You're such a good detective.  Didn't you notice that Candy also wears hearing aids?"

Amos sank down into the other side of the couch.  "No.  How'd you know?"

Stella demonstrated the movement of pushing a hearing aid into place.  "They sometimes work themselves out a bit when we talk, chew, move our jaws.  My right one does that; left one doesn't.  I saw her do it."  She pulled an evidence bag out of her pocket and positioned it so she could move the battery into it without touching it.  "Might be a rather good print on here--at least a partial."

"I've seen you do that.  Candy said she'd never been here."

"Yeah.  But we know she's a liar."

It took a few days for the fingerprint they found on the battery to match one for Candy Towers, who had once been arrested for drunk and disorderly, so her prints were on file. 

Two uniformed officers brought her downtown to be questioned.

After awhile, the story came tumbling out.  "It had nothing to do with the job!"

Stella hid her surprise.  "What then?"

"It was all about Cory.  I tried to get his attention, but he would hardly talk to me.  I figured with Tricia out of the way, I might have a chance.  I told her I wanted to talk to her privately about work, and she invited me over.  Even served wine."  Candy sneered.  "Didn't suspect a thing."

Stella shivered,  "You killed her in cold blood."

What else could I do?  She was in my way!"

"You could have found someone else," Amos said, his voice surprisingly gentle. 

"No!  No, I had to have him.  I'd never met anyone else like him."

"You thought that killing his wife would make him love you?

"Of course not!  I didn't expect to get caught.  I wiped the wine glasses and the door knob clean.  I was sure I didn't leave a fingerprint anywhere.  I forgot I changed the battery in my hearing aid.  I must have dropped in on the couch instead of into my handbag."

"I suppose you were willing to kill his mistress, too," Amos said.

"What?  He didn't have a mistress.  He was totally in love with Tricia."

"I think he did still love her," Stella said.  "But he had someone else, too."

"No!  I can't believe it."  Stella stood up so quickly she startled Amos and Stella.  Both reached for their guns, but she sank back down into the chair and began to sob.  "All for nothing.  All for nothing."

"That's the truth," Stella said.  "At last you've figured out the truth."  She looked at the one-way mirror and said, "Come take her away.  I can't stand the sight of her anymore."

She took the next day off to mourn for her friend.  And hoped solving this one so fast would work in her favor when it came out about her hearing loss.  In this case, it had actually helped her catch a murderer.