"Luxembourg," Aria said.
Zoe leaned across the table to read the screen. "What's in Luxembourg?"
"The woman paying for that lawyer."
"Which woman?"
"Later."
Zoe sat back and folded her arms. "I'm starting a list."
Damien put his phone in his pocket. "She didn't buy Lydia a lawyer to lose."
"No." Aria turned her cup on the table. Across the street, the doorman was sweeping cigarette butts off the sidewalk where the photographers had stood.
"I want to go to the arraignment," she said.
Damien was already standing. "Then we go."
Zoe held up her camera. "They don't let these in, do they?"
"No," Damien said.
"Then I'm going home to look at my pictures of a woman in handcuffs." She hugged Aria again, quickly this time. "Text me."
***
The arraignment courtroom at 100 Centre Street smelled of floor wax and old radiators. Rows of wooden benches faced the judge, and every few minutes a court officer read out a name, and someone stood up and walked to the front.
