Seven Minutes to Noon

under her chin and closed her eyes. Mike would be back in Brooklyn any minute now. Pick up the kids. Come home. She wondered where Simon was and how he would react to the commandeering of his house by the police. Knowing Simon, it wouldn’t faze him; anyone with the fortitude to love Maggie and, moreover, to live with her had to be even-keeled, as was Simon, reliably.
    After a few minutes the front door squealed open andAlice heard footsteps cross the hall to the living room. She opened her eyes: Frannie was talking to the front hall cop. Alice sat up, letting the blanket slide to her feet.
    “Frannie,” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
    “I heard from Dana.” Frannie crossed the room to Alice. “Pillow shopping, huh?”
    Alice picked up the peony pillow from where it lay on the couch and handed it to Frannie. “Judy Gersten made it. When I told Dana how Sylvie finishes them and takes them to the Women’s Exchange, she got pretty excited. Ran right over there.”
    “I didn’t take her for a shopper,” Frannie tried to joke. Her dark eyes shone, but she didn’t, or couldn’t, smile. “Sorry, it’s been a rough afternoon. Dana’s got good instincts.” Frannie sat next to Alice on the couch and rubbed her face. “I could use some coffee.”
    “I’ll make you some.” Alice went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee in the stainless-steel machine Maggie had bought when she lived here.
    Frannie followed Alice and sat down at the large round table. “So, Dana told you we found the crime scene.”
    “She didn’t tell me much, though,” Alice said. “She said when you got here, you’d fill me in.”
    “There’s a lot we won’t know until all the evidence is evaluated,” Frannie said. “That’ll take a few days.” She hesitated, glancing longingly at the coffeepot, which sputtered and steamed, filling the kitchen which a rich smell Alice remembered yearning for before this pregnancy.
    “But?” Alice asked.
    Frannie sighed. “But we learned a lot. It wasn’t pretty, Alice. Are you sure you want to know?”
    “I don’t want to,” Alice said, “but I need to.”
    “Okay,” Frannie said. “Sit down, then.”
    Alice obeyed, installing herself on a chair across from Frannie.
    In a deliberately calm tone, Frannie began. “Therewas blood splatter on the interior side door, which tells us she was probably shot right away, just after she got into the truck. The C-section was performed right there on the floorboard, with a common kitchen knife. It was crude and slow, a lot of blood loss.” Frannie watched Alice, pausing to let it sink in.
    Alice nodded. “Go on.”
    “We found the knife and the tape that was used to close her wounds. If the doer was as messy as the scene indicates, we’ll find fingerprints everywhere. The crime scene doesn’t show a lot of experience or even much thought.”
    “But they’ve done this before,” Alice said. “What about Christine Craddock?”
    Frannie leaned slightly forward, her body language insisting Alice discipline her thoughts, drop her assumptions, really listen. “We never found Christine. Other than the attack on Pam Short, there is no evidence that the attacker has any other experience with violence.”
    “I watched Sal Cattaneo butcher a pig,” Alice said fiercely. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
    “Yes, he does,” Frannie said, “when he cuts up an animal.”
    “I’ve seen Julius Pollack up close,” Alice said. “He is an animal.”
    “Assumptions, Alice.” Frannie’s voice was steady. “Put them aside.”
    Alice heard the crying baby. Saw the video, the baby’s television face. She nodded. Okay, she would put her assumptions aside; at least she would try.
    “The biggest mistake a detective can make,” Frannie said, “is to decide whodunit before evaluating all the evidence. We have evidence now. We finally have a crime scene. Only some of it is pointing in the direction of the Metro connection.”
    “Some of it,” Alice said. “So it isn’t a closed option.”
    “Everything’s open right now,” Frannie said. “Everything.” She got up, found a mug in Simon’s cabinet and poured herself some coffee. “Just remember that it’s apuzzle. You collect all the pieces, which as you’ve seen can be a challenge. You put the pieces together. Then you look.”
    “Am I a puzzle piece?” Alice watched Frannie sip her coffee.
    “It seems like it.” She set down her mug. “But let’s face