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over but the shouting.”
    “Yeah, well, that shouting you’re talking about could mean the difference between doing a year or rotting in here for five to ten. Besides, like I already told the detectives and inspectors, I don’t know anything.”
    “Maybe you know more than you think, something that could help us.”
    “You got no business coming here.” His voice rose and he started to get up.
    “I’ve got no business coming here?” Joss snapped like the crack of a whip. “You threatened to kill my sister, you stole millions from my grandfather, you betrayed us all and I’ve got no business coming here?” She clenched the phone receiver, fury making her dizzy. “I don’t give a damn what kind of a sentence they hand down to you. That’s not why I’m asking. I’m trying to undo the damage that you’ve done. I’m trying to get back the one-penny Mauritius and you’re the only one who can help me.”
    “How do I know you’re not taping this?” he demanded.
    “How could I be?” She gestured at the phone. “Anyway, what would be the point? It wouldn’t affect your case, except to help you. You think they’re not going to look a little more kindly on you if my grandfather has back all his property? Come on, use your brain.”
    “My lawyer would kill me.”
    “Your lawyer’s not here now and neither is the D.A. It’s just you and me, Stewart,” she said persuasively. “You can’t erase what you did to Gwen but you can help make things better. Don’t you want to? Don’t you want to try to fix it?”
    She waited in silence, hoping that she’d read him right.
    Finally, Stewart sat back down and rubbed his eyes wearily. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t help if I wanted to. I dealt with an intermediary the whole time. I never even found out the client’s name.”
    “Don’t sit there and tell me you didn’t at least have an idea. Gwen thinks it might be Karl Silverhielm.”
    Stewart’s gaze skated off to one side. “I told you, I don’t know. I only dealt with my contact.”
    “What did he look like?”
    “It’s all in the police report.”
    “Save me some work. What did he look like?” she repeated.
    Stewart shrugged. “Light hair, tall, blue eyes. One of those Nordic faces.”
    “What was his name?”
    Stewart snorted. “Do you think for a minute he gave me his real name? You can bet it was a fake.”
    “What was it?”
    “Michael Houseman.” When she rolled her eyes, he shrugged. “I told you, there’s nothing I can give to help you.”
    “Was there anything else about him, anything that would let us identify him?” Joss persisted. “Think about how he moved.”
    “He didn’t look like a thug. He was smooth, classy, even. And he moved like he was trained, like a boxer or something.”
    “Can you remember anything about him that couldn’t be changed, his ears, maybe, or the shape of his fingers?”
    “Nothing that stands out. His features were normal, nothing unusual about them. His hands were—” He stopped.
    “What?”
    “Well, it might not be important.”
    “Let me decide that. What?”
    “His right hand. There was a scar on it, between the thumb and the forefinger. I noticed it when we were shaking hands.”
    “What was it shaped like?”
    “A jagged line, like a knife had slipped or something.”
    “Nice company you keep,” she said dryly.
    He bristled. “Look, you wanted me to help, I’m helping.”
    “I’m sorry. You’re right. Look, you’ve given me something that might be useful.”
    “And my lawyer would knock me in the head if he knew I was talking to you.”
    “You did the right thing, if it helps.”
    He gave a brooding stare. “Little enough of that lately.”
    “Stewart.” Joss hesitated. “This’ll mean something to Gwen.”
    “Tell her…” The tone signaling the end of the visiting period rang. He waited until it was silent. “I’d give anything to have done things differently,” he said finally. “Tell her that,