This is ridiculous.

Boldt: Which is what I’m saying. We’re saying the same thing. So why are my accusations ridiculous, and yours are not? Hmm? You want to explain that? You made a mistake, Sergeant Feldman, by coming after me. You doctored those tapes. You got someone to forge a couple of names in the log book. But you didn’t do your homework: you didn’t know about my bum foot and the sandal. The Sandal Scandal. The sandal [subject extends leg] is going to turn this all back onto you.

We’re done here.

Boldt: One of us is.

This interview is over. [Detective Feldman quotes date and time, and closes session]

Boldt: I’d get a lawyer if I were you. A good lawyer at that.

Two days later, Boldt met LaMoia in Carkeek Park. Boldt big. LaMoia long and narrow and, it was apparent, strong and quick. A steady wind blew in their faces, enough wind to prevent any long-range microphone from picking up anything said. They faced the whitecapped waters of the strait, the lush islands, distant and low, like green jewels on gray cloth. LaMoia’s mustache and goatee shook with the stiff breeze. His nose ran and he constantly mopped it with a handkerchief that he also held over his mouth as he spoke.

“What was that like?” LaMoia asked.

“Like when we do it, only the other way around. It got messy.”

“Are you okay with it?”

“I don’t like being accused of things. They wanted to bring you and Daphne and Bobbie into it. They hammered away on my friendship with Phil. They tried to make a case that we’d done this together.”

“Jeez.”

“You better get her things out of the loft. They accused you two of fraternizing.”

LaMoia chewed on his lower lip till the skin turned white. “Shit. And the other thing? The prop room?”

“Feldman’s seen Murder on the Orient Express one too many times. His theory is, if I read it right, that each of us returned a few thousand until we got the cache back up to ten grand. I think they realized no one person entering Property empty-handed could have carried the full ten grand.”

“How creative of them.”

“Seriously.” Boldt looked past LaMoia at a ferry plowing through the chop. A water bug on a breezy pond. “Can you imagine coming up with a plan like that? Who could think of such a thing?”

“Certainly not a criminal psychologist with a love of old movies.”

Boldt reprimanded LaMoia with a sharp look.

“And the videotape?” LaMoia asked. “Did they hit you with that?”

“They’ll figure it out. Someone will. Feldman was called to the door by someone looking on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had to do with the video. They’re going to realize that tape of me is nearly two years old. When they do, I think it’ll be Feldman sitting in that chair I was sitting in.”

“And if not?” LaMoia said.

“What are the chances that any four or five cops would risk their careers for one person? Phil Shoswitz or no Phil Shoswitz. Never mind that Phil was drunk when he allegedly took that money-never mind that it was his one and only gaffe in all those years of service. Are you going to tell me that four officers would put themselves at risk like that?”

“I’m not.”

“Because it’s absurd. Feldman’s on drugs.”

“But he took the case.”

“Of course he took the case. He’d give anything to bring me down. Had to be him.”

“And if it hadn’t been?”

“But it was. No one else in I.I. had the personal motivation he did.”

“But if it hadn’t been?” LaMoia pressed.

“You let me know if they contact you. I don’t think there’s much chance of that, but I need to know the minute you hear anything.”

“Will do.”

“I’m going to your place now. I need an hour.”

LaMoia looked at Boldt, but the lieutenant only stared out at the chop and the ferry’s slow progress.

“How often does it feel like that?” Boldt asked. “Push like hell, get nowhere.”

“Name of the game.”

“You going to ask me why?” Boldt asked.

“You and her? No. Should I?”

“Most guys would.”

“And since when am I most guys?” LaMoia asked.

They both watched the ferry’s effort.

“Listen,” LaMoia said. “It’s a three-legged dog at the moment. Her and me. And the kid. I could lie and tell you otherwise, but that’s the truth. If I was a betting man… ”

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“Because I’m not stupid, Sarge.”

LaMoia had called him that for too long to switch. Boldt would never be a lieutenant in his eyes.

“You two… ” LaMoia said. “Liz must feel the same way I do at least some of the time.”

“And how’s that?”

“Like I’m watching from the sidelines.”

“That’s absurd.”

“No, it’s not,” LaMoia said. “She’s gotten me into those old movies. And the one thing I’ve come to understand is that some actors have this chemistry, this thing between them. You feel it, whatever it is. It’s like a magnetic field or something. Like some kind of light the camera doesn’t actually catch, but it’s still there.” He paused to wipe his nose and clean his mustache. “You two are like that.”

“That’s B.S.”

“It’s not. Maybe you don’t feel it the way I do. Maybe neither of you do. Maybe you’ve lived so long with it that you’re used to it. How should I know? Maybe you’re hosing me. I sure as shit hope not, because I’d hope by now the two of us have more respect for each other than that.”

“I’ve got to tell her things, John. I’ve got to explain things, including the possible fraternization charges. I think this mess… I think something just kind of popped in me that some things have got to be explained,” Boldt said.

“The two of you live in no-man’s-land. I don’t know how you do it. She’s with me. Sort of. But she’s never left you.”

“She was never with me.”

“Try telling her that.”

“You and her. It’s been, what? A year. More than a year.”

“And we’re happy. We’re friends. Good friends. Absolutely. But best friends? Listen, I’m infatuated. Hook, line, and sinker. Honest to God, I could take some cabin on a lake with her and never come back. I’m in. All the chips. And of course it’s the one and only time I’ve felt like that-and of course it’s never going to happen. I think, when you’ve had my kind of history with the opposite sex… I think something like this is bound to happen.”

“It’s called irony, John.”

“It’s called bad luck, Sarge. You go to her. You say whatever you have to say. But I’d be less than honest if I told you it’ll sit all right with me. Because it won’t. The kid’s in play. We come up for review on that pretty soon. My gut says we won’t be allowed to keep the kid, but my heart-and this is me talking, don’t forget-wants it more than anything.”

“Kids don’t hold a marriage together. If anything they challenge it in ways you can’t imagine.”

“But I can imagine. It’s been a year, like you said. I’m not expecting miracles.”

“They asked me about my past,” Boldt said. “They made me relive all sorts of stuff that I’d forgotten. Phil. Daphne. You and Bobbie. How it all came together.”

“And how it damn near came apart.”

“And something about that made me realize I had to speak my piece. To each of you.”

“You call this speaking your piece to me?”

“You? No. I’m not ready for you.”

“There’s some kind of order? A line?” LaMoia looked around at the grass blowing all around them. “That’s precious.”

“In my head there is.”

“I always wondered what was in there,” LaMoia said. “Lines, huh?”

Boldt stopped a smile from forming. He checked the ferry again, surprised at how steadily it moved across the strait. It had made great progress.

“Do what you gotta do,” LaMoia said.

“It isn’t what you’re thinking. It’s nothing like that. It’s about explaining the past, not making up a future.”

“And that’s the first time I’ve breathed in the past five minutes.”