Jennifer Sheridan came out with the two glasses of wine, handed one of them to me, and went to the couch. She must've seen me looking at the Garfield. "Mark won that for me. Isn't it cute?"

"How nice." I smiled. 'Tell me about Riggens and Pinkworth. Tell me everything they said. Don't leave anything out."

She shook her head. 'The other guy didn't say very much. He just stood by the door, and every once in a while said something like 'You oughta listen to him' or 'We're only trying to help.'"

"Okay. Then tell me about Floyd."

She sipped her wine and thought about it, as if she wanted to be very careful and get it right. As she told me she picked up a stuffed lion from the couch and held it. "He told me that Mark didn't know they were here, but that he was Mark's partner and he said that someone had to straighten me out because I was going to get Mark killed. I asked him to tell me what was going on but he wouldn't. He said that I didn't love Mark and I said that I did. He said I had a funny way of showing it. I told him to get out, but he wouldn't. He said that I never should have hired you because all you're doing is making trouble."

"Floyd and I had a run-in today." I told her about the Farmer's Market.

She blinked at me. "You hit him?"

"No. I kicked him."

She said, "Kicked?"

"Yeah. Like Bruce Lee. You know."

"You can get your foot up that high?"

I spread my hands. "I am a man of profound talents."

She touched her left cheek between the ear and the eye. "He had a bruise right here." Sort of awed.

I spread my hands again and she smiled, maybe thinking how he had grabbed her. When she smiled I wanted to drop one wing and run in a circle. Guess we aren't so mature, after all.

I said, "You don't get four active-duty REACT cops on your tail unless they're very scared of what you're doing. They didn't want me to know that they were on me, and now they know that I do, and they didn't want you to know that something is going on, and now Riggens has come here and threatened you. They've been trying to control the program but that isn't working, and things are beginning to fall apart. The gloves are coming off."

She nodded, and looked thoughtful, like maybe whatever she was thinking wasn't easy to think about. She said, "Was Mark there? At the Market?"

"No." I was watching her. The thing that was hard to think about was even harder to say.

"He said Mark was in trouble. He said that they've been trying to help Mark, but that I was messing everything up and Mark was going to be hurt. He started yelling. He said maybe somebody ought to show me what it was like. I got scared then, and that's when he grabbed me." She suddenly stopped speaking, went into the kitchen, and came back with the bottle of Pinot. She added more to her glass, then put the bottle on the table. "Do you think Mark knew that Floyd was coming here?"

"I don't know. Probably not." The detective answers a cry for support with a resounding maybe.

"I asked him why he was doing this. I asked him to tell me what had happened or what was going on. I told him I would help. He thought that was funny. He said that I didn't want to know. He said that Mark had done bad things and now they were fucked. I said Mark wasn't like that and he said I didn't know anything about Mark." She stopped as if someone had pulled her plug, and stared into the forest of photographs.

I said, "And you're scared he's right?"

She nodded.

"You're scared that you don't know anything about Mark, and that if you find out, you might not love him anymore."

She pursed her lips and shook her head, then looked directly at me. "No. I will always love him. No matter what. If he did something, it's because he believed he had to. If I can help him, then I will help him. I will love him even if he no longer loves me." She blinked hard several times, and then took more wine. I watched her drink, and I wondered what it would be like to have someone love me with that commitment and that intensity, and, in that moment, I wished that it were me.

I said, "Jennifer, did Mark ever mention someone named Lewis Washington?"

"No."

"It might've been three or four months ago."

"Maybe he said the name in passing and I wasn't paying attention, but I don't think so."

I said, "Four months ago, Mark's REACT team went into a place called the Premier Pawn Shop to arrest Lewis Washington for fencing stolen goods. There was a struggle, and Lewis Washington died of massive head injuries."

She stared at me.

"The REACT team statement is that Washington pulled a gun and the head injuries resulted accidentally when team members tried to subdue Washington without the use of firearms. Washington's family said that Lewis didn't own a gun and was trying to go straight. The Washingtons sued the city and the LAPD, claiming wrongful death. The LAPD investigated, but found that there had been no wrongdoing."

Jennifer Sheridan didn't move. She was staring at the far pictures. Mark and Jenny at the prom. Mark and Jenny after the big game. See them smile. See them laugh. "Was it Mark?"

"The REACT team statement was that it was a combination of all five officers present, though Eric Dees, the team leader, took responsibility."

She took a deep breath. "Mark never told me any of that."

"How about the name Akeem D'Muere?"

"No."

"Akeem D'Muere is a gangbanger in South Central Los Angeles. He bosses a street gang called the Eight-Deuce Gangster Boys. Lewis Washington's family dropped their lawsuit because Akeem D'Muere told them that he'd kill them if they didn't."

"He didn't tell me any of this. You think Mark has something to do with these people?"

"I don't know if these two things are connected or not. Maybe they're not. Maybe Mark didn't tell you about Akeem D'Muere because he doesn't know."

"He didn't tell me about any of this." She was shaking her head.

"This isn't going to be easy, Jennifer. What we find out about Mark might be a bad thing, just like Riggens said. It might be something that you'll wish you didn't know, and what you find out might change forever what you feel about Mark and about you with Mark. Do you see that?"

"Are you telling me that we should stop?"

"I'm not telling you one way or the other. I want you to know what you're dealing with, that's all."

She turned away from me and looked at the pictures on the white Formica table, the pictures that had charted her life from the ninth grade until this moment. Her eyes turned pink and she rubbed at them. "Damn it, I didn't want to cry anymore. I'm tired of crying." She rubbed her eyes harder.

I leaned forward and touched her arm. The arm that Riggens had hurt. I said, "Crying is dangerous. It's wise of you to avoid it this way."

She said, "What?" Confused.

"First, there's the dehydration, and then the lungs go into sob lock."

She stopped the rubbing. "Sob lock?"

I nodded. "A form of vapor lock induced by sobbing. The lungs lose all capacity to move air, and asphyxiation is only moments away. I've lost more clients to this than gunshot wounds."

"Maybe," she said, "that doesn't so much speak to the clients as to the detective."

I slapped a hand over my chest. "Ouch."

Jennifer Sheridan laughed, forgetting about the tears. "You're funny."

"Nope. I'm Elvis." You get me on a roll, I'm murder.

She laughed again and said, "Say something else funny."

"Something else funny."

She laughed again and made a big deal out of giving me exasperated. "No. I meant for you to say something funny."

"Oh."

"Well?" Waiting.

"You want me to say something funny."

"Yes."

"Something funny."

Jennifer Sheridan threw the stuffed lion at me but then the laughter died and she said, "Oh, my God. I am so scared."