"Yeah, it's a load off my mind."
"What was his name?"
"Who, the dead shooter? They've all got the same name."
"That must be handy," I said. "You call out one name and they all come running."
"You know what I mean. They all got names like you'd order in a restaurant if you could just figure out how to pronounce it. This one, his name started with NG, so even if I remembered it I wouldn't know how to say it"
"If you get sick of being a cop, you can always go to work for the UN."
"Or the State Department, teaching 'em how to be diplomatic. What the hell do you care about the name of some dead slope?"
"It was just an idle question."
"Only it didn't sound that idle. What are you holding out?"
"Not a thing."
"Am I supposed to believe that?"
"Believe what you want."
"You know," he said, "you're licensed by the state of New York. You can't withhold evidence."
"I don't have any evidence to withhold. Any suspicions or theories I might have aren't evidence, and I'm under no obligation to pass them on."
"If you were there last night, what you saw is evidence."
"I was in the bathroom," I said deliberately, "and what I saw was my own face in the mirror, and I already told Wister- "
"I'm talking about Grogan's. You son of a bitch, you knew I was talking about Grogan's."
"I already told you I left before there was anything to see."
"You were home in your own kitchen."
"That's right."
"Drinking coffee. That what you do when you can't sleep? Drink coffee?"
"If only I'd checked in with you, you could have told me to make it warm milk instead."
"You're making a joke, but it's the best thing in the world before you go to bed. Even better, sweeten it with a stiff shot of scotch. But I guess you'd leave the scotch out, wouldn't you?"
"Probably."
"Or maybe not. Maybe you chip around. Is that why you like hanging out with your gangster friend? Do you sneak drinks from time to time?"
"So far I haven't."
"Well, give yourself time. What did your other friend think of you hanging out in ginmills with cheap crooks? Your friend Jim. I bet he thought it was a great idea."
"Is there a point to all this?"
"The point is I think you were there last night."
"No matter what I say."
"No matter what. You were at Grogan's when the shit hit the fan, and you must have been standing right in front of it, which is why you're so full of it right now. You know what he wants to do? George Wister? He wants to put out an order and have you picked up."
"I suppose he can do that if he wants."
"Nice of you to give him permission."
"But he's not going to learn anything he doesn't already know."
"Matt, Matt, Matt," he said. "I thought we were friends."
"So did I."
"Except they say a cop can only be friends with another cop, and that's not what you are anymore, is it?"
"I'm the same thing I've been for as long as we've known each other."
"Seems to me you've changed. But maybe not." He sat back in his seat. "Let's wrap this up, okay? I don't know how deep you're into all of this, but the main reason I'm here now is to warn you off. Stay the hell away from Ballou."
I didn't say anything.
"Because he's finished, Matt. Somebody came real close to doing the world a favor last night. He dodged the bullet, but he may not be that lucky next time. And you know there's gonna be a next time."
"Unless first-rate police work leads to the quick arrest of those responsible."
"And how can we miss, with the cooperation we're getting from the public? Not the point. Which is that he's going down. He's the focus of a major departmental investigation. If the next bomb or bullet doesn't get him, all that means is he'll do time."
"He hasn't yet."
"He's led a charmed life. Charmed lives don't last forever."
Neither did the other kind. I said, "He's a friend in need, so I should drop him."
"Like a hot rock. What he is is a friend in deep shit, and he earned every ounce of it, and you'll go down with him if you stand too close. Jesus Christ, Matt, are you too thick to get that I'm trying to do you a favor? Am I wasting my breath here or what?"
I went home, entering as I'd left, via the service entrance. There were two new messages on the machine. One was from Ray Gruliow, saying that he'd spoken to Mark Rosenstein, and I was now officially engaged to investigate in the interests of Rosenstein's client, one Michael Francis Ballou. The other was from Denis Hamill at the Daily News, hoping I could say something quotable for a column he was doing on the death of a great saloon. I called him back and told him Grogan's wasn't dead, it was only sleeping.
I called Ray Galindez at home after trying and failing to reach him at work. His wife, Bitsy, answered, and asked after Elaine, and brought me up to date on their kids. Then she said, "I suppose you want to talk to the boss," and I held until Ray picked up.
"I need your professional services," I said, "but it has to be off the record."
"No problem. Who'll I be working with?"
"Just me. I saw a guy the other day, and I wish I had a picture of him."
"That'll be great," he said. "You're easy to work with. Some people are just too eager to please you. 'Yeah, that's good, that looks like him'- except it doesn't, but they don't want to hurt your feelings. When do you want to do this? I'd say tonight, but we got this evening planned with Bitsy's sister and her dork of a husband. Do me a favor and tell me it's so urgent I've got to cancel."
"It's not that urgent."
"I'm sorry to hear it. In that case, is tomorrow okay? These days they've got me in Bushwick."
"I know, I tried you there first."
"Yeah, ordinarily I'd be working but I took a personal day. My older boy had a soccer game and I wanted to be there. I'll tell you, watching him play, I think he'll have to be an artist like his old man."
"There's worse things."
"I guess. You want me to come by your place tomorrow? I'm off at four and the station house is right next to the subway. I could be there easy by five."
"Maybe it would be better if I came to you."
"You sure? Because that's great as far as I'm concerned. Saves me a train ride. You want to come by the job? I got more time on my hands there than I know what to do with."
"It might be a little too public."
"Right, you wanted this off the record. So maybe that's not such a hot idea. That was quite a thing happened in your part of town last night."
"Terrible," I agreed. "Look, would it be an intrusion if I came to your house? You're off at four, so say five o'clock? Would that be all right?"
"That'd be fine. I know Bitsy'd love to see you. In fact why don't you bring Elaine with you? I've got some new work I've been trying to get up the nerve to bring in and show to her. Come around five and you'll stay and have dinner with us."
"I think, it'll just be me," I said, "and I don't think I'll have time for dinner."
I tried TJ across the street, and when he didn't answer I called his beeper number. I had the TV on when he called back, and I muted it while the machine picked up and told him to leave his message at the tone. "I know you there," he said, "on account of you just beeped me, so- "
"So you must be a detective," I said, "to figure that out. Where are you?"
"You a detective too. Can't you tell?"
He must have held the phone toward the crowd, because the background noise picked up in volume. "O'Hare Airport," I said.
"Morning Star restaurant."
"Well, I was close."
"An' I was slow callin' back, 'count of I had to wait on a lady to get off the phone. She had me goin' for a minute. What she did, she put in her quarter and dialed her number and then she just didn't say anything. Just stood there with the phone to her ear. I wanted to tell her, like, if they ain't answered by now ain't nobody home. How many times you gonna let it ring?"
"She was listening to her messages."