"Probably smart." Glitsky stood up, walked over to the fireplace, moved some of the glass elephants on the mantel. "So what's your next move?"
"That's why I called you. Though it pains me to admit it, I think I need some advice."
"Strategic?"
"Emotional, philosophical, strategic, I don't care." He came forward with some difficulty, rolling his shoulder against the pain. "They whack my car Wednesday, they shoot at me on Friday. Tell you the truth, I'm a little concerned."
Glitsky stared out through the blinds of Hardy's front window. A muscle worked by his temple. When he spoke, it was with an exaggerated calm. "For what it's worth, it's probably not you. It's Holiday."
"It was my car, Abe, on Wednesday. Holiday wasn't anywhere near it."
"That, in fact, might really have been random. Vandals."
"Right. Just like David was." Hardy took a beat. "Come on, Abe. Two attacks in three days. You know it wasn't random. I'd like a little hint about what to do here. I don't like people coming after me. To say nothing about my family. It makes me a little uptight. We had two crying kids last night. Frannie's talking about taking them out of school, all of us going away for a week or two."
Glitsky just nodded.
"What?" Hardy asked.
"You already said it. If you're absolutely sure it's Panos…"
"Of course it's Panos! Whether the target is me or Holiday, either way it's Panos."
"Okay, so what you do is you call Dick Kroll and tell him you're out. At least until Freeman's up and around again. Explain the situation without threatening him or accusing him or his client, if that's in your arsenal of legal moves. That takes you out of it, am I right?"
"So far. Maybe."
"All right. Meanwhile, make friends with Blanca again. Find out what happened. It's probably just some misunderstanding-you know how cops can be if they feel you haven't been completely straight with them. Apologize. Then, of course, turn over Holiday."
"No way."
Glitsky's mouth went tight. "There's that flexibility you're so famous for."
"He's not going to jail again, Abe. He's been there once and didn't like it. He thinks Panos will have him killed."
"In jail?" Glitsky barked a laugh. "That's just stupid and you know it, Diz. Wade may be the big bad wolf on the streets, but essentially he's a rent-a-cop, okay? He doesn't have secret operatives working in the jail to enforce his wishes. Trust me on this. The truth is that if somebody is out to get your client, he's safer in jail than he is out of it."
"And then what?"
"And then what, what?"
"I mean, after I drop my lawsuit and John's in jail, then what? They just win?"
"What's the hurry? You let things cool off awhile, see how things stand with Freeman, get some new partners to work on the lawsuit later. Then, with Holiday, you press for a speedy trial and get him off on the evidence. You said he's got alibis for all the murders. If that's true, he's out after the prelim."
"And back on the street, where they can try again."
Glitsky broke his second smile of the day, a personal record. "You can't have it both ways, Diz. He's either safer on the street, or safer in jail."
"How about neither? Whoever really did these killings wants to pin them on him. If he dies, with the evidence they found at his place, the case is closed."
Glitsky walked back to his chair, stood looking down at his friend. "Because you've been through recent psychological trauma and I don't want to embarrass you, I've kind of been avoiding that pesky little evidence problem."
Hardy's eyes narrowed. "Abe, I swear to God, somebody shot at us yesterday. Really. I'm not kidding you."
Glitsky registered surprise. "I don't doubt it. But what's that got to do…?"
"Somebody planted that evidence. Get used to it. That's the truth. And that happens to be Nick Sephia's specialty."
"Which makes it especially unfortunate he wasn't here in the city."
"I'm working on that."
"Well." Glitsky stood again. He checked his watch. "You get something, let me know. Meanwhile, call Kroll at his home, talk to your client. Be convincing. It could all be settled by tonight."
Glitsky met his wife and daughter where he'd dropped them at a bookstore on California Street. They presented a Saturday Children's Hour that Rachel enjoyed-it also got everybody outside of the duplex, which was to the good. In the car, Trey a drove while Abe turned himself around and sang some nonsense songs to his daughter, then tickled and laughed with her, enjoying himself. Treya put a hand on his thigh. "What are you so happy about? Not that I'm complaining."
"I've successfully resisted temptation, so I'm taking a few minutes to bask in my virtue."
She threw him a look across the car seat. "That's nice. Was the temptation female?"
He put his hand down on hers. "Never in the world. He was subtle enough about it, but Diz wanted me to check up on the efficiency of the current homicide team. I politely declined."
"What is it," Treya asked, "some kind of virus? First your dad, now Diz."
"I know. But I can't be mad at him. He's legitimately worried."
"I'd be worried, too. But what did he expect you to do about it?"
"He thinks John Holiday's getting framed. He wanted me to pass it on."
"To Lieutenant Gerson?"
"Who else?" He grunted. "My close friend Barry, who is hanging on my every word. I told Diz that wasn't the way to go. You would have been proud of me."
"Always," she said, "but somebody's trying to find who shot at him, aren't they?"
"Absolutely. He reported it, so that's what they've got to do." He glanced across at her. "What's the problem?"
"People shooting at our friends. That's a pretty serious problem, don't you think?"
He shook his head. "They weren't after Diz."
"No? What would have happened if, say, they'd killed Holiday after all?"
"What do you mean, what would have happened? He'd be dead and.. ."
"And that would be the end of it? What about these other killings he supposedly did? Those cases would be closed, too, wouldn't they?"
Glitsky didn't answer right away.
"You see what I'm asking? Doesn't it make sense?"
He nodded. "It's more or less what Diz was getting at. But it doesn't have to be Panos, or anybody connected to Panos."
"But whoever it was had to be at Silverman's, right? I mean, the money, the jewels. And didn't the young man you talked to…"
"Matt Creed."
"Right. He told you it wasn't Holiday and his friends, didn't he?"
"No. He only said he couldn't say for sure that it was."
"But did he ever get to tell that to the inspectors in homicide? Did he have time before he got shot?"
"I don't know."
"Now that might be worth finding out."
They were going shopping next and pulled into a space at the Safeway. Treya turned off the engine, but Abe didn't move to get out of the seat. Instead, he sat there, rubbing his scar with his index ringer. "I thought you didn't want me getting involved in any of this. It's not my job. Remember?"
"I know. I do remember." After a long moment, she said, "You're right. I just hope somebody really is looking for whoever shot at Diz."
"I might be able to ask around about that. It's not homicide."
"That might not be bad."
They got out of the car and Rachel, who'd fallen asleep in the baby seat, was making some discontented noises as Glitsky leaned in, pulled her out, and brought her in close to him, bouncing her gently. While Treya walked a few steps ahead, he kept up a singsong patter all across the lot. By the time they got her fastened into the seat in the shopping cart, she was gurgling happily again, mimicking her father's words. "Ay-so, ay-so."
"What do you have her saying?" Treya asked, smiling.
Glitsky, his smile quotient for the day all used up, fixed his wife with a serious look. "Key childhood words," he said. "One in particular."