“If I had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He leaned over the table. “Why are you here?”

“I have a story that might interest you. David had a girlfriend at the Fordham Communal Center, where he worked as an art instructor. Her name is Sarah Sanders. They used to go to the park and have sex. One day, a gang of punks walked in on them, raped Sarah, and beat David. They left him in a trash can. I believe that was the last time anyone who knew him has seen or heard from him. Forgive me for encapsulating this in a blunt manner, but you told me to be quick.”

His face registered pure shock. “Is… is this true?”

“I don’t have any reason to doubt it. Sarah Sanders gave a statement to the police just yesterday, although the incident happened about six months ago. This information was just given to me a couple of days ago. Why? you may wonder. Because Sarah Sanders was the girl in the paper who dumped her baby in a trash can. I found the infant and have taken a personal interest in the outcome and in everyone’s welfare.”

“Wait a minute.” He brought a finger to his forehead. “This is all coming way too quickly for me to absorb.”

“What would you like me to repeat?”

He stared at me with dark piercing eyes. “You haven’t found David?”

“Not yet. But I haven’t started looking for him.”

“Okay. And you think he was beaten up and… then what?”

“Sarah told us-us being the police-that they beat him and stuffed him down a trash can. Being frightened and retarded, she left not knowing what happened to him. She never told anyone because she was just too scared.”

“So are you saying that David is dead?”

“No, not at all. I suppose I was hoping you had heard from him.” His expression turned a mite hostile. “I haven’t.”

“He hasn’t called at all?”

“I said no.”

“No other kind of communication? A letter perhaps?”

“Are you accusing me of holding back?”

I was taken aback by his vehemence. I said, “Sir, all I’m trying to do is get some information on David Tyler’s whereabouts.”

“And I’m telling you I haven’t heard from him.”

“Fine,” I said coolly. “We can leave it at that. But there is another point to this little tête-à-tête. The baby that Sarah Sanders gave birth to. I think she’s David Tyler’s offspring.”

That gave Paxton pause.

“I know that there was money in a trust fund for David. Should it be determined that something happened to David, the money should go for the care of the child. The funds are legally hers-”

“Wait a minute! You come in with this fantastic story of crime and then lay a baby on top of it? Who are you?”

“Would you like to see my badge again?”

“What is this to you, Detective…”

I didn’t correct him. “Decker.”

“Detective Decker, where is the proof of this rape story? Where is the corroboration? And then how do you know that this child is David’s offspring? What is this to you?”

“Just doing my job. So there’s been no request for funds from David?”

“No. I told you I haven’t heard from him!” Paxton got up and went over to the coffee table. Out of nerves, he poured himself a cup.

“So his money is still in the trust?”

He spun around and glared at me. “Of course, his money is still in the trust! Are you implying some illegality on my part?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just trying to be brought up to date.”

He stared at me. “I did this as a personal favor to the Tylers. All I take out of it are small processing and conservator fees. And I wonder if you’d be grilling me so extensively if I were one of the big shots from Frisby, Mathews, and Young.”

“I didn’t realize I was grilling you, and truly I don’t understand what you’re driving at, Mr. Paxton.”

“Deny what you will, Officer, but I know intimidation when I see it.”

“Intimidation?”

“You know what I mean. I know how you people feel about minorities!”

I jerked my head back in shock. “You people” being the police. He thought I was riding him because he was black. Man, was he off target. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to shout:I’m not a racist, you jerk! I’m just trying to do a job! I’ve dated black guys!

Actually, it wasablack guy-in the singular-but that didn’t sound as good.

I softened my tone, trying to get him on my side. “You’re entitled to be compensated for the paperwork. If you think I’m implying any wrongdoing on your part, you’re mistaken.”

It mollified him, but not by much.

I pressed on. “What would happen to the money if there isn’t any offspring and David doesn’t surface?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” He sat down again. “If David passes on before I do, the money is supposed to be distributed to various charitable institutions. Of course, if there is a legitimate offspring, that would change everything.” He regarded my face. “But I would need proof, Detective-a blood test, a DNA test. I hope you understand this. I can’t give away hundreds of thousands of dollars based on some disabled girl’s fantasy.”

Hundreds of thousands of dollars.Sarah had chosen well. “That’s going to be hard to do with David missing.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see what choice I have.”

“Maybe if you saw the baby, you’d change your mind. She’s half black and the mother’s white. She’s a mosaic Down’s syndrome. I understand David had the same genotype.”

He stared at me. “Did you go to college?”

Now who was letting his prejudice show? “Columbia University.”

“And you’re a cop?”

“Excuse me?” I replied.

I couldn’t swear, but I thought I saw him blush.

“You know, it is possible that David’s genetic profile has been mapped,” I stated. “Maybe at a hospital. Mosaics are rare. Maybe we can determine paternity based on some previous medical results.”

“We’re getting way ahead of ourselves. At this point, I’d say you’re stepping into personal territory. I’m not saying I wouldn’t permit it, but this is all too premature.”

“Not really. There’s an infant out there who could use some money.”

“Who has the infant?”

“The mother, but the baby is under the care of Sarah’s older sister. Would you like to see her?”

“Perhaps eventually, but not now. Not until we determine other things. If you want David’s medical information, you’re going to have to come back with a warrant.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to make sure that this girl isn’t scamming me to get money.”

“I don’t think she has the mental capabilities to scam.”

“You’d be surprised.” He checked his watch. “It’s been over five minutes.”

“Yes, it has been. Thank you.” I stood up and gave him my card. “You will call me if you hear from him?”

“Yes, of course. And I expect the police to call me as well.”

“Yes, I will.”

He read the card. “It doesn’t say here that you’re a detective.”

“I never said I was. You did.”

“Talk about scamming.” He gave me a critical look. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Dismissed again.

Getting it from all sides.

?

In civilian clothes, on my way home from my shift, I saw her rooting through the garbage. I pulled my Lexus to the curb, got out of the car, and called her by name. She looked up with that stunned deer-in-the-headlights look. She was wearing layers on layers, the top stratum being an old gray knitted sweater filled with holes. When she recognized me, she visibly relaxed and went back to her Dumpster. I took out a ten-spot, flicked it with my fingers, and pulled her aside. Her focus glommed on to the money with feral eyes. Her mouth spread into a gap-toothed smile.

“What?”

I crushed the bill in her dirty hands. Her hair was soiled and greasy but not matted. “Nothing. Go buy yourself something decent to eat.”

She stared at her good fortune. “And you don’t want nothin’ for it?”

I held up my hands. “See. There is such a thing as a free lunch.”