‘I think Mr Soma’s just talking about the preliminary interviews, Sarah. We get anything that sets off a charge, we come back and do the soup-to-nuts version. Is that it?’

‘But you won’t,’ Soma said, ‘because Graham did it, right?’

‘Right.’ Lanier was with the program, ready to be rolling again. ‘You just want to avoid making a case for the defense. We got it.’

Sarah wanted to make it crystal clear. ‘But we are, in fact, looking for another suspect. Isn’t that true?’

‘Absolutely,’ Soma said. ‘If somebody jumps up at you, we put Graham on hold and go after the new guy. But there isn’t going to be any new guy. Look, Sergeant, you and your partner here found Graham out of a universe of potentials, right?’

‘Right.’

‘So he’s the man. This is just some CYA for the AG. We’re beating the bushes, backfilling, making sure we haven’t missed a bet. Any righteous evidence, I promise you, we cough it up.’ Sarah obviously still didn’t like it, and Soma moved to cut her off. ‘We’re not subverting anything here. We’re not asking you to.’

Finally Glitsky’s chair squeaked again. He came forward, the scar white through his lips, a pulse visible at his temple. All eyes went to him. ‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of this,’ he whispered. He turned his wrathful gaze to Soma. ‘I don’t know how you boys do things in other jurisdictions, but this department writes up everything. That’s our job. We find what there is to find, all of it.’

Soma had blanched. ‘I didn’t mean-’

His voice still low and taut, Glitsky sounded meaner than he looked, and Evans thought that was a physical impossibility. ‘I know what you meant. I heard you all the way out. And I’m telling the sergeants here that they are going to do it by the book. Every time. Everybody we talk to. That covers our ass. It covers your ass. Everybody stays clean.’

He shook his head, calming down by degrees, still at Soma. ‘Listen. What do you think happens if some defense attorney notices we haven’t interviewed anybody except the suspect? You think this might raise an eyebrow somewhere? What if they find we talked to somebody and “forgot” to tell them? Think that’s a problem? I do. I’ve seen it happen. No. Our position is that if there’s anybody else to look for, we’re looking for them. We don’t find ’em, there’s no other leads, that’s why the case is strong.‘ He met the eyes of all three of them, one at time, slowly. ’Just so we’re clear. Everybody on the same bus here?‘

Nods all around.

In under a minute they’d all filed out. He decided then and there: he would pay out of his own pocket if he had to for a door to close behind them.

14

After his inspectors had gone, Glitsky was drinking a cup of tea, filling out a requisition form for the door. That, he decided, would be his first offensive sally. Stamping URGENT in red ink on the slip, he put his tea down and was taking the slip outside to post in the building mail when he ran into Dismas Hardy in the hallway, coming down in his direction.

‘All right,’ Hardy said, anger all over him. ‘What did you do with them?’

‘What?’

‘My toothbrushes, that’s what. Every single toothbrush in my whole house.’

‘What did I do with your toothbrushes?’

‘Right. They were there yesterday when you came over. This morning they were gone. Ruined my placid morning, upset my domestic tranquillity, which is explicitly guaranteed by the Constitution. The preamble. Right up in the front there, after “We, the People.” ’

Glitsky stood still for a moment. Then he nodded, said, ‘Excuse me,’ and went to post his requisition slip.

When he came back into his office, his friend had settled himself down at his desk, feet up, eating peanuts.

‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘If I took away the peanuts, would anyone ever again come into my office?’

Hardy gave the room a once-over. ‘I doubt it. As a popular destination it’s a little flat, don’t you think? How come nobody’s ever here anymore? You notice that? Look out there – the place is a ghost town.’

Glitsky glanced back over his shoulder. ‘An hour ago we had to call in crowd control. I don’t know. Everybody’s out working. They come in here to write reports. Why are you here?’

The feet came down. ‘Because through secret sources I have discovered what you already knew yesterday when you wouldn’t talk to me about Graham Russo.’

‘Which was?’

‘He was at his father’s place. He shot him up with morphine all the time.’

‘Did I know that yesterday? I don’t think I knew that, if I do, until this morning.’

‘You knew something, though. More than you had last week. You were convinced you had a murder.’

Glitsky moved into the room. ‘No comment.’

‘Has it gone to the grand jury yet? Tell me that.’

‘No comment.’ Then, ‘Sal had a fight.’

Hardy gave them a minute, then shook his head. ‘Not with Graham.’

‘If you say so, and you probably will at the trial.’

Glitsky had just told him what he wanted to know: there was going to be a trial. There was no point in arguing the merits. With the combination of Graham’s presence at Sal’s and the fight, added to the lies and the money, there was a case the attorney general could prosecute, even if the district attorney would not. The lieutenant had one more remark, however. ‘Whoever did it, Diz, this was a murder. You mind if I sit in my chair?’

Hardy got up and they did a little dance moving around each other. Glitsky looked up at him. ‘Why don’t I think you came all the way down here just to have some peanuts?’

‘I needed to know if you had a smoking gun before I did anything else.’

Glitsky considered this. ‘No comment.’ He flashed his terrible smile. ‘What else brought you down to our little garden spot?’

‘No comment.’ Hardy smiled back. ‘Gosh, we’ve turned into some great conversationalists here in our middle years, haven’t we?’ He hesitated, about to say something else, then thought better of it. He checked his watch. ‘Lord, how time flies. Thanks for the peanuts. Later.’

Hardy had tried to make the appointment with Sharron Pratt’s chief assistant, Claude Clark, soon after he’d hung up with Graham. His client might choose to deny it, but Hardy knew that after his admissions to Sergeant Evans, big trouble was brewing. He had a wild idea that might head it off at the pass.

Clark already had a reputation as a trim and officious bully. In his late thirties, he sported a sandy buzz haircut, a clipped mustache with goatee, and an openly fey style that he would exaggerate around people whom he suspected of homophobia.

He had the power now; he controlled access to the district attorney and was very effective at conveying the feeling that if you wanted to see her, then you could very politely kiss his ass. Pratt liked to pretend that she was sensitive to people, that she cared about their personal feelings, and keeping Clark near by to do her hatchet work was, she believed, good politics.

The chief assistant dismissed Hardy’s request to meet with Pratt as ridiculous. The district attorney did not take meetings with defense attorneys on little or no notice. She might be able to set aside some time for him in several weeks if he put his request in writing.

Thinking, It’s bad luck to diss the Diz, Hardy put on the press. ‘I’d appreciate it if you’d just tell her I’d like five minutes. It’s about the Sal Russo case. It hasn’t gone away. I’ve got some information that might help her.’

‘Why don’t you just brief me and I’ll pass it along to her?’

‘I’ll tell you what,’ Hardy had said. ‘I’ll just call my good buddy Jeff Elliot over at the Chronicle. You know Jeff? Hell of a reporter, writes the “CityTalk” column. Gets his teeth in and never lets go. Sharron can read about it in the morning. Take care now.’