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JUDGE HORTON IS WELL aware that neither Katherine Welsh nor I considered Paul Harrington a crucial witness. But he was still a material witness in a murder trial, and his death—and the trial—have been front-page news even in the city tabloids.

So Horton informs me by phone early this morning that he’s hitting the pause button on the trial for one more day, as if another day off will allow everyone involved, including him, to regroup.

“Just to lower the temperature,” he says.

“If you can do that, Your Honor,” I say, “you ought to take a crack at global warming next.”

A few hours later I am having lunch with my sister, Brigid, and Dr. Sam Wylie at a table tucked into the far corner of the front room at Bobby Van’s in Bridgehampton. Brigid is the one who has invited Sam. When I asked her why, she said she would explain when we got to Van’s.

Brigid seems even more defeated than usual today, as low a bar as that is after the way the last year or so has gone for her. Cancer. A ruined marriage. And a relationship with Rob Jacobson that might be the most self-destructive thing she has ever done.

Another low bar, of course.

We order iced teas and various salads on the menu. After our drinks are brought to the table, Brigid says, “I want you to know that I was with Rob last night.”

“Gee,” I say. “What’s the good news, sis?”

“That is good news for you,” she says. “And even better news, at least where you’re concerned, is that he no longer wants to see me.”

Sam is between us, saying nothing, just watching my sister and me as if she’s watching us bat a tennis ball back and forth across a net.

“I was under the impression that you had already stopped seeing him after he beat you up,” I say. “Silly me.”

I hear a brief, sharp intake of breath from Sam Wylie.

“He didn’t beat me up!” Brigid says. “Things got a little rough, was all.”

“A man getting a little rough with a woman is like a woman being a little pregnant,” I tell my sister. “In my book, there is no such thing.”

“Whatever,” she says rather wearily. “We’re over, which means you’re finally getting what you want.”

“Am I allowed to ask why?”

Brigid turns to Sam Wylie. “You tell her.”

“Tell me what?” I ask Sam. “Are you now doubling as a couples’ counselor?”

“Brigid’s cancer is back,” Sam says.