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had nothing to do with Connie’s murder.”
    “I was, Matt,” said the chief. “But new evidence came up, and the State Attorney went for the indictment.”
    “What new evidence?” I asked.
    “You’ll have to get that from the State Attorney, Matt. I just thought you’d like to be here.”
    “Damn, Bill, I wish I weren’t here. Can I go talk to him before you arrest him?”
    “Fuck no, counselor,” said Banion. He still smelled of old whiskey and stale cigarette smoke. His eyes were the red of a first rate hangover. “We’re taking that fucker to jail. Now.”
    “Bill?” I implored.
    “Go on up, Matt. We’ll give you five minutes.”
    “What the fuck, chief? You shouldn’t even have called this fuckhead. Let’s get the bastard in the car and take him to the stockade.”
    “Go on, Matt. We’ll wait,” the chief said.
    I took the elevator to the fourth floor, dreading this message more than any I had ever delivered. I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again, and then peered over the walkway railing to the parking lot. Logan’s car was gone. I felt a great sense of relief, and immediate guilt at my relief. It would be better for me to break this to Logan than to have Banion arrest him and haul him off to jail.
    I went back downstairs and told the cops that Logan was not at home. “Bullshit,” said Banion.
    “Go see for yourself asshole,” I said. “You’re such a genius you didn’t check the parking lot for his car.”
    “Fuck you, Counselor,” said Banion.
    “He always says that,” I said to the chief.
    “Calm down, both of you,” said Lester. “You sound like a couple of schoolyard bullies trying to outdo each other. Do you know where he is, Matt?”
    “No, I don’t,” I said honestly and, I hoped, earnestly. “It’s Saturday morning. Maybe he’s playing golf. He doesn’t check in with me everyday. He might be out of town for the weekend. Sometimes his trips keep him out for more than a week. What made the state decide to indict him?”
    “DNA,” said the chief. He had apparently changed his mind about telling me about the evidence.
    “What?”
    “Connie had been raped. We never mentioned it to the public, but the medical examiner found it when he did the autopsy. He was able to get a sample of semen from her vagina and sent if off for DNA testing. We also tested some hair the techs found in Logan’ comb in his bathroom. There was a match. It’s like a billion to one chance that the semen isn’t Logan’s. The results were faxed to us Thursday and the State Attorney took it to the grand jury late yesterday.”
    “Something’s wrong here, Bill. You know Logan wouldn’t do something like this.”
    “I wouldn’t think so, Matt. But you never really know what people are capable of. The DNA evidence is hard to refute.”
    “What now?” I asked.
    “We find the mother,” growled Banion, “and we put his ass in jail, and then we try him and put it in the electric chair.” A real hardass.
    “Fuck you, Banion. You’ll have to go over me to convict him,” I said. Hardass is a two way street.
    “Bring it on, fuckhead,” he said.
    “Jesus,” said Bill Lester. “Both of you are nuts. Let’s go Banion. If you hear anything Matt, let me know.”
    “Sure, Bill. Listen, if you find Logan, go easy. There’s probably an explanation for all this.”
    “I hope so, Matt, but I don’t really think so.”
    The two cops loaded into the unmarked and headed back south on Gulf of Mexico Drive, leaving me standing in the hot sun, roasting like a pig on a spit. I was stunned. Logan couldn’t have done this. On the other hand, after O.J., everybody in the country knew that DNA evidence was as solid as you ever get. Including me.
    I went back to my condo, and popped a cold Miller Lite. I was restless, not sure what to do. In a fit of little boy pique at that idiot Banion, I had announced that I would take Logan’s case. I guess I could back down, but I hated to lose face in