Donald Spencer looked up, scowling, as David opened the interrogation room door. David was surprised at how old the man looked. According to his file, Spencer was only thirty nine years old. He looked sixty. David tossed a file folder onto the table and sat down across from Spencer.

Spencer shifted his gaze to the folder. "I want a lawyer."

"You're not under arrest."

"I'm not? So I can leave any time I want?"

"Sure," David shrugged.

Spencer stood.

As Spencer headed toward the door, David said, "Of course, Yang Chaoxiang's people are very interested in finding the person who took the Van Gogh your sister had with her when she was murdered."

"What's that got to do with me? I didn't kill her and I don't have any painting."

"Your fingerprints were found at the scene."

"So? I've ridden in her car before. No big deal."

"Did you hang out at the dumpster next to where her body was found too? You work at that fast food joint or something?"

"Whattaya mean? I was never there."

David opened the folder. "According to this your hands were."

Spencer lowered himself back into his chair and regarded David with narrowed eyes. "So if you got all that against me, why haven't you arrested me?"

David shrugged. "I'm sure we'll get around to it, Spencer. But right now, I want to know more about Yang."

"You think I killed another human being and all you're interested in is whether I can help you nail a druglord? You guys are a real piece of work."

In the observation room, Charlie turned to Don. "They wouldn't really let him get away with killing Ellen, would they?"

Don shook his head and nodded toward the window. "Listen."

David had picked up the folder and was perusing its contents as Spencer shifted nervously in his seat. Finally, he looked up. "That's not all we're interested in. We're only talking about the difference between the death penalty and life in prison."

"Death?" Spencer's voice squeaked. "California doesn't have the death penalty."

David smiled slowly. "Yeah, it does. And you're a prime candidate. Killing your own sister because you're in trouble with a druglord. I don't think any jury will take pity on you."

"But I didn't kill her…"

"All the evidence points to you. Why did you kill her? So you could get the painting?"

Spencer slammed his hands on the table. "I told you, I didn't kill her."

"But you were there."

Spencer took a deep breath and sighed. "I was there. She called me and said she wanted out. She was fed up with cleaning up my messes. She told me to take the damned painting and do whatever I wanted with it, but she was done. When I got there she was dead and the painting was gone."

"How did she get involved to begin with? Was it because of your problems with Yang?"

Spencer nodded. "Mr. Yang knew somehow that my sister worked with one of those damned Agincourt brothers. He had me brought into his office and told me that the Agincourts needed my sister's help and I was to see to it that she did whatever they needed." He looked up at David, pleading, "He was gonna kill me, man. What was I supposed to do?"

David stood slowly, scowling down at Spencer. "You weren't supposed to use your sister to save your own miserable life. Maybe – just maybe – you didn't kill her with your own hands, but she's dead because of you." He turned and left the room.

In the observation room, Charlie released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Wow," he whispered.

The door opened and David threw the file folder onto the table in front of Colby. "I couldn't stand the stink in there. You talk to him."

Colby stood, cracking his knuckles. "You want I should rough him up a little, Boss?"

David shook his head. "As much as I'd enjoy watching that, you'd better not. Just see what he knows about who killed his sister and took the painting. We know Francis Agincourt ended up with it, but we don't know how." David sank into the chair Colby had vacated. "What a scumbag," he muttered.

Charlie's voice was barely above a whisper. "Was he telling the truth?"

David shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but I think so. He's still a scumbag…"

"Agreed," Charlie said. "But you made it clear to him that he's fighting for his life now. He stands to lose everything if he doesn't cooperate with you."

"That's the object," Colby said. "He's got to believe that we really do have enough evidence to convict him, and that a jury will have no sympathy for him."

"So now you're going to be 'good cop?'"

The agents laughed. "Charlie," Don said, "you watch too much TV."

Blushing, Charlie said, "Okay, so you don't really call it that. But the principle is the same. You've scared the crap out of Spencer. Now you've withdrawn to let him think about it. Then Colby goes in to negotiate with him."

"Tit for tat," David said, nodding.

"Right. Like Don did with the death row guy." Charlie glanced at Colby. "Spencer made his move by deciding to stay and listen. What are you going to give him in exchange?"

"Protection from Yang?" Colby suggested.

Don and David nodded. "That'll work," Don said. "Have you talked to an AUSA yet?"

"Not yet," David said. "I have a call into Alvin Brickle. He hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"Okay," Colby said, his hand on the doorknob, "I won't promise anything I might not be able to deliver."

"That's good," Charlie said. "He's got to trust you or it won't work."

As Colby left, Don grinned at David. "Do you think you should have had someone else call Brickle? The last time you two worked together he got shot at."

"Hey, he got out of it without a scratch," David chuckled.

"True," Don said. "But he whined about it for the next six months."

"What a wuss," Charlie said, grinning. "I've actually been shot and you don't hear me whining."

"Is anybody else available?" Don asked.

"I tried Howard Meeks, but he's swamped." David hesitated. "Robin's back…"

Don's head jerked up. "Robin?" he said weakly.

"You want me to call her?"

Don shook his head. "I don't think I can deal with that now. Of course, you're the lead agent on this case, so it's up to you. Just warn me if you're going to call her, okay? I don't want to be around…"

"I'll wait for Brickle," David said, exchanging worried glances with Charlie.

Don noticed the exchange. "Let's just say things didn't end well with me and Robin. Does Liz know she's back?"

"Yeah," David said.

"She didn't say anything."

"She probably assumed it was over between you and Robin."

"It is," Don snapped. His expression softened. "It's over between us. I just don't want Liz to worry about that." He shrugged. "She tends to be worried about my reputation."

Charlie snorted. "With good reason, Bro."

"Shut up," Don snarled. "Let's listen to Colby and Spencer."

---------------------------------------

Colby was sitting across the table from Spencer. He leaned back in his chair, relaxing as Spencer shouted.

"I don't know who killed her!" Spencer stood and began to pace. "I just know I didn't."

Colby regarded the man with disdain. "So, like O.J. Simpson, you're going to do whatever you can to find the real killer, right?"

Spencer stopped pacing, and turned to face Colby. "Yeah. Of course. I don't know what I can do to help though."

"Sit down and answer my questions. Listen, I know Yang's gang is not very happy with you now…"

Spencer seemed to deflate as he dropped into a chair. "I'm dead if he gets ahold of me. His goons have already made that clear to me. Ellen getting the painting was supposed to take care of it. But then she backed out."

"We can protect you. But you've got to give us something. How did Francis Agincourt get the painting to sell it to a dealer? Why didn't he turn it over to Yang?"

"How the hell do I know?"

Colby started to stand, but then paused and glanced at the one-way mirror leading to the observation room. With a sigh, he sat. "Okay, just tell me what you do know. From the beginning."

"You gonna protect me from Yang?"

"Yeah. You've got my word on that."

"You gonna stop them from charging me with anything?"

Colby shrugged. "I can't do that without the cooperation of the US Attorney. We've got a call in to their office. But I can protect you from Yang."

Spencer pondered, then nodded. "Okay. You already know how I got into trouble with Yang."

Colby nodded. "Take it from where Yang got you to recruit your sister."

"I didn't expect her to get killed. I thought this would be a simple grab and run. She'd turn over the painting, and that would be the end of it."

"How'd Yang contact you?"

"He sent two of his thugs. I thought they were going to kill me, or at least beat the crap outta me. Instead, they just said, 'Yang wants to talk to you,' and then shoved me into their car. They took me to a restaurant in Chinatown. They took me in through the back, into an office. Yang was there, all smiling and sweetness and light. That scared me worse than anything. When he smiles, it means he wants something, and it isn't gonna be something you want to do."

"This was the Tang's restaurant?"

"I don't know who owns it. It's the place Yang hangs out when he's in town. Does it matter?"

"Not really. Go ahead."

"He says, 'You have a sister, don't you?'" I said yeah, but I begged him not to hurt her. I told him I'd get his money for him, but just leave my family alone. He said he didn't want to hurt my sister. An associate of his just needed her help and she was reluctant. That's when he told me about the Agincourts and the paintings. It didn't sound like any big deal, you know? I mean, what kind of security do those museums have? Old guys with walkie talkies, right?"

"So you agreed."

"Yeah. I told him I'd talk to Ellen. He said I'd better do more than talk. I'd better convince her to do this little favor. So I went to see her."

"How'd she react?"

"She wasn't happy, to say the least. I… I told her that Yang was going to kill me if she didn't help. Her first reaction was to say, 'Good.' She reminded me of all the interventions my family had for me, all the rehab clinics they'd sent me to, and how I'd thrown it all away just to go back to drugs."

"Let me guess. You told her this was the last time. That you were really going to change this time," Colby's voice was mocking.

"Yeah. And I meant it. I haven't touched drugs since then. Honest."

"We'll have you pee in a cup later. So I assume she bought it and agreed to help you."

"Yeah. It took a while, but she finally gave in. I told her it would be easy. She'd be safe. That nobody would get hurt." He looked down at his hands. "But she had to shoot that guy with her taser. That did it for her. She said she was so scared of getting caught, if she'd had a gun she would have killed him. She said she almost just dropped the painting and ran. But she was afraid for me…"

"So she kept her word to the Agincourts so Yang wouldn't kill you."

"Yeah," Spencer muttered as he rubbed his face, "and look what it got her."

"What did she do with the painting?"

"I don't really know what the arrangements were. I assume that somewhere along the line she was supposed to give it to the Agincourts or Yang or somebody. I know she had it when she called me. I don't know if she had blown them off or not."

"You remember what exactly the two of you said to each other?"

"It was the last time I talked to my sister. Yeah, I remember. She sounded like she was crying, or really upset, you know? She told me she thought she could do it but she couldn't. It made her realize stuff about herself that she didn't want to see. You know, that stuff about knowing she could have killed that guy if she had a gun. She told me…" his voice broke, "… she told me she was sorry. I told her she didn't need to apologize."

"But you were mad at her, weren't you?" Colby asked softly.

"No!" Spencer yelled, then he nodded. "Yeah, a little. I mean, she was so close. You know? She did the hard part of it. She just had to finish, and then I'd be in the clear."

"You told her that, didn't you? That's why she apologized."

"Yeah. I should be the one laying dead beside that dumpster. Not her. She was the good kid in the family, you know? I should be the one that's dead."

"So what else did the two of you say?"

"I asked her where she wanted to meet. She suggested the place. She told me to just take the painting and give it to Yang and then get some help. For the drugs. That was it."

"Did you tell anybody about that conversation?"

"You think I'm crazy? If Yang found out, me and Ellen would both be in more trouble. Yang would know she was a risk. He couldn't leave her alive, 'cause he'd be afraid she'd go to the cops."

"So what were you going to do with the painting?"

"She took me by surprise. I didn't know then what I was going to do. On the way to meet her, I figured it out. I was gonna ask her what her orders were. Who she was supposed to give it to. Then I'd take it to whoever it was and tell them she got confused with the instructions, and I offered to help her."

Colby snorted. "The junkie remembered the instructions and the teacher forgot."

"Hey, it wasn't a perfect solution, but I figured it'd work. It was the only thing I could come up with on such short notice. I figured when they got the painting, they wouldn't care about the details, you know?"

"What did you see when you got there to meet her?"

"First thing I saw was her car. The door was open, so I figured she got out and was waiting behind the dumpster or something."

"Anybody else around?"

Spencer shrugged. "Not that I noticed. I mean, it was late at night, you know, so the place wasn't really busy. I didn't see anybody near her car, or by the dumpster."

"Okay, so then what did you do?"

"I pulled up beside her car. On the passenger's side. I got out, and called her name. Not really yelling or anything, 'cause it looked like she wanted to keep it secret. Then I walked around to her door and looked in her car. Her purse was on the passenger's seat and the keys were in the ignition. I called her name again and then walked around the dumpster. That's when I found her."

"She was dead when you found her?" Colby asked. Spencer nodded. "Did you touch the body?"

"Yeah. It was dark. I… I couldn't see how bad she was hurt. I was feeling for her pulse, you know? But then I felt all that blood, and it was pretty obvious she was dead."

"What time was this?"

"About three in the morning. She wanted to meet at three, and I was a little late. I was worried she'd be mad."

"What did you do after you were sure she was dead? Look for the painting?"

"Yeah. Of course. She was dead. It wasn't going to make any difference, you know?"

"Sweet," Colby muttered. "Where'd you look?"

"I opened the back door of her car and looked around. Then I popped the trunk and checked in there. Nothing. So I figured whoever killed her stole the painting too."

"Other than a dead body and the lack of a painting, did you notice anything unusual?"

"Nothing."

"And you didn't even have the decency to call 911?"

"She was dead. What good was it going to do her?"

"So what'd you do?"

"I was scared. I knew I was really in trouble with Yang. I didn't know what to do."

"So you went home and got high."

Spencer buried his face in his hands. "Yeah."

"Did it help?"

"No. It didn't. It never does." He looked up at Colby, his eyes pleading. "I'm in a program now. And I'm going to kick it this time. For Ellen."

Colby opened the folder and took out photos of Felicia Agincourt and her two sons. "You recognize any of these people?"

Spencer took his time looking at the pictures. Finally he shook his head. "No. Who are they? Were they involved in this whole art theft thing?

"Let's just say they're persons of interest in the murder of Ellen Davis."