The Hearing

'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-'