The Hearing

20

Glitsky thought they certainly liked to keep those beds empty in the ICU in case somebody got admitted who needed one.

He hadn't had a heart attack in all of about a day and a half, so by hospital lights he guessed he was out of immediate danger, although it didn't seem so to him. They moved him to a semi-private room at a little before five in the afternoon. He had been sharing his thoughts about this with his new roommate, Roy, an elderly gentleman who was getting over pneumonia – trying not to sound too querulous, but voicing the opinion that maybe it was a little soon to be off the monitors.

Roy chuckled drily. 'Last time I was here -I got COPD,' he explained, tapping his chest, 'bad lungs, so I'm in here all the time now. But last time, I passed out at home just after I punched nine one one. It took the paramedics a while to pick me up and so anyway by the time I got admitted to the emergency room, I was DOA. Dead, right?'

'Dead?'

'Right. So they slapped me around with some CPR, got me breathing again and gave me a new oxygen bottle. So I called my brother to tell him where I was and by the time he got down here, they told me to go on home. Home! I'm dead an hour ago and they send me home. What's that about?'

This was all new to Abe, but he was getting the hang of it – bemused resignation seemed to carry the day. 'Managed care. That's my guess.'

Roy shook his head. 'My brother wouldn't let them do it. Made a big fuss, wondered if anybody thought it possible I might stop breathing again, since I just had. Eventually they let me stay overnight.'

'One night?'

A shrug. 'Hey, I lived through it. No hard feelings, because what would be the point? Is anybody going to care? So my doc comes in and says, "See?" I could have gone home after all.'

'Nice of him.'

'Hell of a guy,' Roy agreed. 'Probably figured a little guilt never hurts. Maybe next time I get admitted dead I wouldn't push so hard for a bed.'

'You were actually DOA?'

'Yeah, I saw it on my chart. Admitted two nineteen. DOA. I love that, telling people I died.' He broke a smile. 'I'm in my resurrection phase now, though I've been disappointed to discover it's pretty much the same as last time around.'

They fell into a silence for a while, until Glitsky shifted in his bed and sat up straighter. 'You mind if I ask you something, Roy?'

'Shoot.'

'Did you see any white light or anything like that while you were dead?'

He thought about it briefly. 'You know, I can't say I did. One minute I'm dialing nine one one and then I'm in the ER here with a tube down my throat and somebody pushing on my chest. How about you?'

'No. I wasn't dead. Heart attack,' he explained. 'I didn't see anything either, though.'

'My wife died of a heart attack,' Roy said. 'They gave her all the tests and everything and told her it hadn't been a bad one. She was fine. She ought to come get another check-up in a week, but meanwhile she didn't need to be in a hospital. She should stop smoking and lose a little weight, change her lifestyle, which she didn't get much of a chance to do, seeing as she died about two hours after she got home.'

'I'm sorry,' Abe said.

'Hey.' Roy lifted his shoulders. 'Mangled care.'

Glitsky hadn't seen his oldest boy, Isaac, for the winter break. With a group of his friends, he was skiing at Mammoth for the first week, then they were all going to the Grand Canyon until school started again. He told his father he'd try to make it back up for spring break, but everybody was talking about a road trip up to Chico State, a college in the northern foothills of California which was getting itself something of a reputation for throwing a week-long revelry – Lauderdale West. Naked chicks, loud music! Dancing and fights and all-night raves. Vandalism, riots, rivers of beer!

Or Isaac could come home to the spring fog and watch TV in their duplex while his dad went to work.

Tough choice.

But now, no planning for it, here he was coming through the door to Abe's room. He seemed bigger somehow, but then he always did after an absence. His head was shaved – a shock – but Glitsky realized at a glance that it looked powerful and terrific. There was a lot of his mother in the face, though without her coloring – Isaac was a few shades darker than Abe or the other boys. The words came without warning, as did the gloss over his eyes. 'Oh my beautiful boy.'

Isaac either didn't hear or chose to ignore the remark. The handsome face wore a smile, concern all over it, a completely adult expression. A tiny gold Star of David glittered in one ear. The black body shirt said he'd been working out a lot. Abe almost felt whiplashed by the impressions – but above them all rode the flood of emotion and relief. He and Flo had raised a fully-formed, civilized, wonderful person. Isaac might not be a finished product, but he was certainly no longer any kind of a child.

He leaned over the bed and rested his head a long moment on his father's chest, gripping him tightly. Abe kept an arm over him, patted a few times, hugged him closely a last second. Then Isaac pulled up and looked in his dad's face. 'What is this bullshit?' he asked.

By the time Hardy arrived with Frannie and the kids at a little before eight, it was a full-fledged party. Orel and Isaac were on chairs on either side of Abe's bed. Rita, his housekeeper and Orel's daytime guardian, hovered near his head, ready at any opportunity to get him more ice or refill his cup of tea. Nat, Roy and Roy's brother Fred had struck up their own conversation about forming an Infirm Old Men unit for the Bay to Breakers race in May.

Glitsky was all the way up to a full seated position. He'd removed the morning's plastic tube from his nose. To Hardy, it appeared that he'd been up out of bed. There was a gloss to his hair as though he'd washed it. Any trace of the morning's pallor was gone – beyond that, he simply looked good, talking with some animation to his boys.

'Doctor Diz,' he said by way of greeting. Then to Frannie. 'Mrs Doctor Diz.'

Because Abe's own children had been trained that it was proper to stand when a woman entered the room, they stood up. If Hardy didn't know from years of experience that it was physically impossible, he would have sworn his friend was smiling. 'And these would be the young children of Doctor and Mrs Diz.'

'Uncle Abe!' The ever-flamboyant Rebecca ran to his bedside, put her arms around him. 'I've been so worried.'

'There's nothing to worry about.' He gave her arm a welcoming squeeze. 'People have heart attacks all the time.'

Orel snorted a laugh. 'Good one, Dad. Pretty reassuring.'

The glare. Watch it, junior. 'I mean they have heart attacks and get better.'

Frannie had moved up behind her daughter. 'Completely better, Beck.'

'Sometimes even better than when they started,' the older son said from the other side of the bed.

Hardy took the opening. 'That wouldn't be too hard.'

Frannie was staring over Abe's bed. She put a hand to her face. 'Oh my God. Isaac?'

A smile played at his mouth. 'That's me.'

'I wouldn't have recognized you.'

The smile broadened. 'I think you just did.' When Flo Glitsky had died, Abe's boys had lived with the Hardys for a month. Isaac and Frannie had become especially close, even if they hadn't seen each other now in three or four years.

'Isaac!' Beck shrieked, coming around the bed, hugging him. 'I didn't know who you were.'

'Just me, girlfriend, same old me.'

'Like… not,' she said.

'OK, maybe stylin' a bit more.' He picked her up with one arm, kissed her on the cheek, put her back down, then narrowed his eyes at Hardy's son. 'Yo, Vin.'

'Cool hair, Isaac.' Vincent, eleven years old and the quiet one in the family, finally logged in.

'What hair?' Hardy put in. 'He doesn't have any hair.'

Vin ignored him. 'Can I shave my head too, Mom?'

Hardy answered for her. 'The next time Uncle Abe smiles, Vin.'

'He's smiling now.' Vincent thought he had him.

'This time doesn't count. In fact, tonight doesn't count.'

'Your father means the next separate time on another day.'

That's not fair.'

'Why not?' Frannie asked.

'Because Uncle Abe never smiles.'

'He does sometimes,' Hardy said. 'And when he does, you can shave your head. Promise.'

'Promise?'

Glitsky joined the discussion. 'You remind me, Vin, and I'll make a special effort.'

Hardy turned to him. 'It's got to be a sincere smile. Not one of those phony "I'm going to rip your legs off in a minute" smiles like cops make.'

'You can't change the rules,' Vincent said. This was serious stuff. 'You said a smile, Dad, just a smile.'

'Sometimes he smiles at home.' Orel was a hero to Hardy's kids. 'I could call you at home, Vin.'

'This whole discussion is pathetic,' Isaac said. But he was clearly enjoying it. 'I go away for a few years and the level of discourse devolves to this point?'

'Discourse?' Hardy said. 'Devolves? What is that? Is that college?' He turned to the bed. 'Abe, you've got to help us here.'

But suddenly, Glitsky had lost all interest in the conversation. He was staring over Hardy's shoulder. He was wearing his old face, his everyday face. The smile gone. All trace of it gone.

'Abe?' Hardy repeated.

And suddenly everyone else became aware of something, a different vibration. Heads turned. The silence was profound.

Just inside the doorway, Treya Ghent had stopped where she stood. She was holding a large mixed bouquet of winter greenhouse flowers – daisies, daffodils, carnations. Her daughter shifted nervously beside and a half step behind her. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I don't mean to interrupt. I just wanted… I thought…'

Glitsky cleared his throat and the awkwardness held until Frannie turned completely, broke a wide and genuine smile, moved toward her. 'Those are beautiful,' she said. 'Abe loves flowers. I should have brought some myself.'

It was nothing like Treya thought it would be. It hadn't really occurred to her that he had a family, friends, a life. Since he had never functioned as a father to Elaine, she'd assumed he didn't have that gene. Until he'd collapsed yesterday morning, he'd only been a cop to her, not a person.

Now here was Glitsky's father, an old Jewish man of all things, yarmulke and all. Two well-behaved and good-looking boys. That awful attorney Hardy – Elaine's killer's lawyer – from the arraignment, and his pretty wife and sweet children.

She'd heard the conversation about one of them shaving his head before they'd seen her. The obvious, warm connection between everybody. It was the last thing she expected. The tough and heartless Lieutenant Glitsky. Uncle Abe?

People.

And now here she was in the midst of them. Introductions to Frannie, Dismas, Isaac, Nat.

An Hispanic woman, Rita, taking her flowers, exclaiming over them. Raney and Orel checking each other out, but cool about it. Fast eyes.

'We can't really stay,' she said. 'I just wanted to see if you were all right.' She felt she had to continue. 'About yesterday, Lieutenant.'

'It wasn't you,' he said.

But she shook that off. 'I didn't think-'

The lieutenant raised a palm. 'Please. Stop. OK? It wasn't you,' he repeated. He turned to his Frannie. 'Somebody needs to tell Ms Ghent she didn't make this happen.'

'Yes, sir.' Frannie went with it. 'You didn't make this happen,' she said to Treya. She made eye contact, somehow making her feel welcome. Then back to the lieutenant. 'What, though?'

'I'm starting to think it didn't happen at all.' Frannie's husband was being inclusive, too. There was none of the anger Treya had seen from him in the courtroom. He spoke matter-of-factly to her, humor in the tone. 'Abe will sometimes do this kind of thing to get attention. He lives a sad and lonely existence.'

'We all feel sorry for him,' Frannie added.

The little boy, Vincent, couldn't follow the irony. 'We do? I don't. I like Uncle Abe.'

'Thank you,' Glitsky said.

His mother patted him on the head. 'We're kidding, Vince. We like him too. We don't really feel sorry for him.'

'I do,' the attorney said, smiling. He, too, rubbed a hand in his boy's hair, gave him a wink.

Treya could see that no one was going to acknowledge that she'd played a role in the lieutenant's collapse. She realized with some surprise that these were good people, protecting her while supporting him.

Glitsky spoke to her. 'I appreciate your coming down, I really do. But this would have happened anyway.'

She didn't believe it for a minute. 'Well,' she said, 'I'm still sorry.'

Treya's plan – apologize, drop the flowers and run -disintegrated in front of her. Dr Campion came in and Frannie Hardy took control and dispatched Nat and Rita with the two teenagers and the younger kids down to the gift shop to get ice cream. So Treya's daughter, now part of the gang, was gone and so they were staying at least until she returned.

When Campion left, the four that remained clustered around the bed. Treya and Frannie had the chairs, with Frannie's husband and Abe's son standing. Now without all the people diffusing the energy, Treya much more acutely felt like an outsider.

She sat listening to them all talk about Glitsky's release, which the doctor thought would be Thursday, although everyone else seemed to think that would be too soon. But the lieutenant was explaining that was how they did it nowadays. 'Besides,' he said, turning to Hardy, 'if you're doing the hearing a week after that, I've got some work to do.'

'Dad, you're not going back to work.'

'Well…'

'Grandpa said you were on leave anyway.'

This was news to Treya. What did that mean, he was on leave? And if he was, when had it begun and why had he interviewed her?

But he was telling Isaac that he'd take it easy. He wouldn't push things. Then he came back. 'So, Diz, did you ever talk to your client about the gun? The snitch who said he gave it to him?'

Hardy slapped his forehead. 'I would have if I wasn't brain dead. But we just talked plea.'

Glitsky sat up straighter. 'What about his plea?'

'No deals,' Hardy answered. 'We go.'

The scar in the lieutenant's lips went white. He was sitting forward now, his back off the mattress. 'Why would you do that?'

'What do you mean, why?' Hardy asked.

Frannie spoke up. 'I don't think we need to talk about this now.' She was on her feet, up from the chair by the bed, the color high in her face. 'I really don't.'

Glitsky turned his face to her. 'It's OK, Fran, it's fine. Just a little business.'

'It is not fine.' Flint in Frannie's tone. 'And I know you two. It's not a little business.' She turned to her husband. 'This can wait, Dismas, OK? This is exactly what the doctor meant five minutes ago when he said to avoid stress.'

'No.' Glitsky was trying to keep it light, normally not his strong suit. 'He meant physical stress. I shouldn't lift heavy objects, like that. This work stuff,' he indicated Hardy, 'it's just a job. It rolls right off me.'

Isaac piped in. 'I don't think so.'

He turned to his son. 'You haven't been around, Ike. I'm much more mellow now.'

'Dad, five times as mellow would still put you in the top ten per cent of uptight.'

Treya had to smile at that, but then Glitsky was looking at her. 'But I did want to talk to you about Elaine, though. Before you leave?'

She looked to Frannie, as though for permission. A silence clamped down again over them all.

'Who's Elaine?' Isaac asked.

Hardy jumped in, too fast, out of rhythm. 'Elaine Wager. The victim in this case we were talking about.'

But it hung there. Everyone but Isaac knew, and they were all aware of it. Finally, Glitsky looked over to his son. 'I've got to talk to you about Elaine too.'

'What about her? I didn't know her.'

'No, but-'

Frannie started, 'Abe, I don't know if now is the time-'

But he held up a hand. 'If anybody should know.' He turned back to his son. 'When I was about your age, Ike, I went out with Loretta Wager.'

'Who became the senator. Mom mentioned that you dated her. We all knew that.'

'Yeah, well, what maybe didn't get mentioned is that we were pretty serious.' He hesitated, then came out with it. 'Anyway, to make a long story short, a few years ago I found out I'd gotten her pregnant.'

'You didn't know back then? When it happened?'

'She never told me. Suddenly she dumped me and married Dana Wager.'

'But it was your kid?'

He nodded. 'Elaine. Yeah.'

Isaac ran a palm over his skull, looked around at the assemblage. 'Wow.' But Isaac was an intelligent young man, and the other ramifications began to kick in. Treya could see him beginning to process them. 'I mean-'

Footsteps and high-pitched laughter outside in the hallway stopped him. Then Rebecca exploded through the door at a dead run, a step or two ahead of her brother. 'I win! I win!'

Treya thought that the lawyer and his wife gave a damn good example of what zero tolerance for inappropriate behavior really was. It did her heart good, since she'd just about come to believe she was the last of the breed. With no hesitation, both of them were laying down the law in tandem. Unheard of. 'Beck! Hey! Vincent! Enough.'

'What are you doing? Don't you know people are trying to sleep?'

'This is a hospital, get it? Sick people.'

'Think! Use your brains! Have a little respect, all right?'

By the time they were through and had marched both kids over and had them apologize, Nat, Rita and the teenagers were back, and Frannie was up by the bed, bussing Glitsky's cheek. 'That's enough excitement for one night. We'll be back tomorrow, maybe without children.'

'It's date night,' Hardy said. 'Definitely without children.'

Treya was standing, too. Raney had come back over by her side, put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Visiting hours weren't officially over, but everybody was heading out, Rita and Nat shooing Orel over to his dad to say goodnight.

Although Isaac wasn't quite ready. 'What's the earliest I can get back in here tomorrow?' he asked.

'Morning might be tricky,' Abe said, mentioning angiograms and perhaps some other testing. 'But any time after that.' He turned his head. 'And Ms Ghent?'

'Treya, please.'

'All right. Treya then. About Elaine. If you get a little time…'

She nodded. 'I'll see what I can do.'

With all the bedlam, Glitsky found it hard to believe that Roy had gone to sleep. He'd pulled the sheet around his bed, though, and the light was off on his side of the room. More tellingly, so was the TV, which had been gently droning for the entire rest of the day. If it was off, Roy was sleeping.

He wasn't even slightly tired, but he turned the room light down, lowered the back of the bed slightly and settled himself against it. Nat had brought him a book by Patrick O'Brian called Master and Commander. According to his father, this was the first in a long series of seafaring tales that he was sure Abe would love. He'd loved Hornblower as a young man, and Nat thought this stuff was better, although Abe was skeptical. What could be better than Hornblower?

But the gift also delivered the subtle hopeful message that Abe would be around to read more books in the series, which had been running now for nearly thirty years. That Abe had never heard of it nagged slightly at him, but you set your priorities and he'd had other things he'd been doing. Reading was even among those things, but most of his reading over the years had been to improve his mind or to feed it more facts, which he consumed like the peanuts in his desk. The few novels he read tended to be mysteries and, with a few exceptions, more often than not he put them down halfway through, the law people who populated them bearing little or no resemblance to anyone in the real world of cops and killers in which he lived.

So books about the Royal Navy set a couple of centuries in the past? He couldn't take the time.

Now, holding this new book in his hands, he wondered why that had been so. He closed his eyes, remembering. He used to love stories like this one promised to be – pure adventure, with the fore't'gallant sails and the mizzenmasts, whatever they were, and the salt spray in your face as shot and ball peppered the quarterdeck.

'If Vincent were here, Mr Hardy would have to let him shave his head.'

He started back into awareness, on some level equally thrilled both at the sound of the contralto laughter that accompanied his surprise, and at the unexpected sight of the woman who'd produced it. 'I didn't mean to startle you,' Treya said. 'You looked so happy.' She pointed. 'I love those books. Are you just starting?'

Sheepish, he looked down at the book in his hand. 'I haven't read a page yet. I was remembering Hornblower.'

'And smiling.'

'And smiling, I suppose. Don't tell Hardy.'

'I won't.' She was sitting in the chair, now moved up close to the head of the bed. Her hand rested on the railing. 'Hornblower was great, too, wasn't he?'

'Still is, I'd bet.' He looked at her, a question. Why was she here?

'On the ice-cream run, your dad got the kids talking, even the teenagers.'

'Nat,' Glitsky said. 'The guy's a miracle.'

'Apparently. Anyway, it turns out my daughter and your son both play basketball for Washington. We, you and me, live about five blocks from each other. So I'm trying to work out with Raney when I could get back and talk to you about Elaine, and your dad overhears and asks me why don't I just stay now while I'm here. He'll take Raney home, make sure she's locked in.' She shrugged apologetically. 'It seemed like a good idea. I hope you don't mind. Were you going to sleep? I could come back another day if you're tired.'

'I'm not tired.'

'Good,' she said. She looked down. 'I also didn't really want to leave until I told you I was sorry. I mean, yesterday. And before even. I don't think I've been fair to you.'

'It's all right.'

'No it isn't.' She took a breath. 'I was sitting up last night, worrying about all this, not able to sleep. I told a little of it to my daughter, why I'd jumped all over you, and she said maybe you felt the same way Elaine had. Why she didn't feel she could come to you.'

'She felt like it wasn't her place. I was busy enough with my own life. I didn't need her in it mucking it up. If it was important enough, I'd come to her.'

'Right.'

'Genetics.'

Her mouth softened. 'Maybe that.'

'Funny how I've got all the excuses down pat.'

'It's like you practiced them.'

'Plus, there was always tomorrow. I could always just decide it was time. Maybe if I'd known that she knew…' He shook his head regretfully. 'How stupid we are.'

She let a moment go by. 'Can I ask you a question?'

'No.' At her reaction – a fractional clouding of her brow – he realized he'd hurt her somehow. He reached out his hand, touched hers on the railing, then withdrew it quickly. 'I'm kidding. I'm a great kidder, famous for it, in fact.' He met her eyes. 'You can ask me anything you want.'

'Your son mentioned you were on leave, but when you came by to interview me-'

'That was before.' He recounted enough of the story to give her the idea.

'They're not going to fire you, are they?'

'Unlikely. Maybe knock me down a grade, which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Back to doing cases. Or transfer me out of homicide, which would be worse.'

'But you were investigating Elaine.'

'That was because it was Elaine. Normally I don't get involved with investigations.' A bitter chuckle. 'Which is for the best if the hash I made of this is any indication. They're all probably right. He just made a bad confession, but there isn't any doubt. He did it.'

'But you're not sure.'

Again, her eyes drew him. 'No, not that exactly.' Then, 'No. Not as sure as I want to be. In a lot of ways I just… I can't accept it.' He shook his head, stopped.

'What?' The eyes pleaded with him. 'What?'

And he gave in. 'This will sound strange, even downright weird, but it's as though she's finally talking to me, telling me there has to be a better reason than a chance encounter with some junkie. And after all the denial I've had with her up to now, I just can't make myself ignore it.' A pause. 'Dumb, I know.'

She pondered a moment. 'Why did you come to me first?'

A shrug. 'As opposed to who else?'

'I don't know. Maybe Jonas? Her fiance?'

'I would have gotten to him. But you were close by. I talked to Clarence Jackman and he told me that if she was involved in something squirrelly with her work or any of her projects, you'd probably know about it.'

A rueful expression. 'Probably.'

'But you said there was nothing.'

Treya shook her head. 'That was that first day. I was so furious at you, at who you were, that I wasn't going to help you, period. No matter what you were asking. I didn't believe you were working for Elaine's interests.'

'I was. I am.'

'I see that now.'

'And? Was she working on something?'

'Honestly, I don't know. Nothing's jumping up at me.' She gave him a hopeful smile. 'But at least now I'm disposed to look.'

'There's progress,' Glitsky said. 'But before you even start that, why did you mention her fiance? Were they having problems?'

Treya made a face, hesitated. 'Maybe you should talk to him?'

'I intend to, but you're here now.' He waited.

Finally, she came to the decision. 'Well, a couple of things.' She told him about the argument in the Rand and Jackman conference room on the day of the arraignment, how Jonas had been so adamantly opposed to any discussion of the validity of Cole's confession. 'He just didn't want to go there at all.'

'And this meant what?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I thought it was pretty understandable myself. But other people thought it was funny. They said if Cole didn't do it, shouldn't Jonas want to find Elaine's killer? Whoever it might be? Of course, this was a room full of lawyers and law students, so we're not talking about a typical cross-section of humanity.'

'Or humanity at all.'

'Well…' But she acknowledged his point with a nod. 'Still, everybody seemed to think he should have cared more somehow.'

Glitsky pondered that a moment. 'What's the second thing?' he asked.

'Well, this is more…' She hesitated. 'He told me she was leaving him.'

'Did you already know that?'

'No.'

A questioning look. 'Wouldn't that be odd, you not knowing? Her not telling you?'

'I thought so. Maybe she hadn't finally decided. Maybe she was too embarrassed to admit it to me.'

'Why would that be?'

'Maybe because when she was first getting together with Jonas, we were kind of conspirators together – Elaine and I – to keep anybody from finding out. Then, after that, when they were together, Jonas changed a little.'

'Changed how?'

A shrug. She didn't like these revelations, but they seemed relevant. 'A little more impatient.' Then she added, 'Like I was the help, not a friend anymore.' Another small pause. 'If I ever had been. Anyway, Elaine saw he hurt my feelings, and she tried to smooth it over a few times, make excuses for him. So then if she was thinking about leaving him after all… I could see where she'd feel embarrassed with me.'

'But Jonas told you?' Glitsky asked with an air of disappointment.

'Yes. Why does that bother you?'

A shake of the head. 'Because if it was a motive for murder…'

'A motive for murder? You mean Jonas?' She shook her head in surprise or disbelief.

'That's who we're talking about, right? Her fiance.'

'I know, but I never thought he killed her.'

'You may be right,' Glitsky said. 'At least if she was leaving him and that was his motive for killing her, I can't see him telling anybody about it.'

She came forward on her chair. 'Except if he thought I already knew. Then his not mentioning it would be significant, right? So he had to say something about it to cover himself.'

Glitsky allowed himself a smile. 'Not a bad point.'

Suddenly, her eyes opened wider in surprise. 'Are you wearing contact lenses?' she asked.

'No.'

She was staring at him. 'You've got blue eyes,' she said.

'I do? You're kidding me.'

'I'm not. It's not all that common for a black man to have blue eyes.'

'It's not all that uncommon when the black man's father has them. Actually, I like to think of them as the color of cold blue steel. That's a good color for a cop's eyes, don't you think? Ice in the veins, steel blue eyes…' He narrowed his gaze, fixed her with one of his hard looks. 'How can you be smiling right now?' he asked. 'That look strikes terror into the hearts of hardened criminals.'

'It's terrifying,' she admitted. 'It's very good. If I didn't know you were putting it on for show, I'd be very scared at this moment, Lieutenant.'

He relaxed the scowl. 'By the way, you can call me Abe,' he said.

'Al. The song is "You Can Call Me Al", not Abe.'

'The cop is Abe, not Al.'

The loudspeaker came on announcing the end of visiting hours. Treya looked at her watch, frowned. 'Did you say you were getting out on Thursday? I could have a good look at Elaine's files by then, now that I know what I'm looking for.'

'Thursday's the plan. If all goes well tomorrow.'

'What's tomorrow?'

He shrugged it off. 'Just some tests, make sure my arteries are working. So should we make an appointment, say Thursday, your lunchtime, your office?'

She stood up. 'That sounds good. I'll be ready.'

'If I get hung up here for some reason, I'll call and leave a message.'

She was just saying goodbye when a thought struck her. She got her wallet and a pen from her purse. Withdrawing a business card, she wrote on it, handed it to him. 'Save you from having to look it up. And that's my home number, if you need anything else.'

He used the card as a bookmark. Thanks. While you've got your pen out…' He gave her his telephone number as well and she wrote it on another card.

'OK, then…' She shrugged awkwardly. She lifted a hand slightly, Abe did the same, and she turned to go.

As she reached the door, Glitsky called after her. 'Treya.' She stopped and turned. 'Thanks for coming back. And for the flowers.'

'You're welcome.' She pointed to the bedside table. 'Enjoy your book. Goodnight, Abe.'