“Mr. Banks?”

Quickly, he moved through the unit: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a laundry room with a trash chute.

“Mr. Banks?”

Decker opened and shut closet doors. He lifted the trapdoor to the rubbish shaft and looked inside. It smelled of ripe garbage but nothing more sinister.

“Mr. Banks?”

Though the place wasn’t compulsively clean, it was orderly. Satisfied that nothing was awry, Decker shut the self-locking door. O’Dell was sitting in the hallway, listening to an iPod, his eyes closed, his body swaying to an unheard beat. Decker walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. O’Dell’s eyes flipped open and he bounded to his feet. “All clear, mate?”

“All clear.” Decker regarded him. “Why’d you take my note, Liam?”

“I was a bad boy.” O’Dell wiped sweaty hands on his shorts. “I thought I might stick around and see who it was for. Then I saw you…” He smiled. “I coulda kept it.”

“Thanks, buddy, for your consideration. Any idea what the emergency was?”

“With Rudy, an emergency could be anything. Mostly the emergency happens when he wants to get out of something.”

“You shouldn’t come around here so often, Liam, especially if you think something’s going to happen to him.” Decker smiled. “See, that would make you a suspect.”

“Ooh, a suspect! Can I play meself in the movie?”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, I know you’re trying to do the right thing, Lieutenant.” O’Dell looked at his watch. “It’s going on three-thirty. If I was you, I’d leave soon. Traffic is going to be a real bitch if you wait much longer.”

Decker held open the door to the stairs. “After you, Liam.”

“If you insist.”

“I insist.” He waited for O’Dell a little longer than he should have. Finally, when Liam was in the stairwell and in front of him, Decker let the door close. They went down to the first floor without talking, drowned out by the clops of the shoes banging on steel steps.

WHAT DECKER HAD pictured in his mind was an almost forty-year-old rock star gone to seed-overweight and with a puffy face from alcohol and drug abuse. But as recently as a year ago, Rudy Banks was a good-looking man-a lean jaw with an aquiline nose, clear blue eyes, a clean white smile, and a cleft chin. He had dark curly hair, a couple days’ worth of beard growth, and his mug could have been on Page Six in the New York Post, the caption saying he was an up-and-coming actor.

The man’s image was so out of sync with his rotten personality that Decker checked several “find a face” search engines just to make sure he had the right guy. What had happened in this person’s life to turn someone that handsome into such a bitter, crude, and rude human being?

Maybe it was precisely because he had been good-looking. Being Mr. Adonis often led to failure to thrive; it simply wasn’t necessary to develop more substantial attributes.

Decker felt a presence over his shoulder and looked up from the screen and into the eyes of his elder daughter.

“Very nice,” she remarked.

“No, actually, he isn’t at all.”

“What did he do?”

“So far nothing.” Decker gave Cindy a peck on the cheek. “When did you get here?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

He smiled at his detective daughter. She wore a simple black dress and black heels. Her hair was aglow with the colors of a raging fire. “You look lovely.”

“I try.”

“Where’s my man Koby?”

“He’s coming later.” She pulled up a chair next to him. “So who’s the guy?”

“Rudy Banks. He was a founding member of a punk band called the Doodoo Sluts. So was Primo Ekerling.”

“Aha.” She peered at the computer and started reading the text. “I heard that you and Rip Garrett reached a semi-rapprochement.”

“It’s always better to have cooperation than animosity. And why semi?”

“Rip and Tito still aren’t thrilled by your interference. But at least they don’t glare at me anymore.”

“Father knows best.”

“Father is what got me on the hot seat in the first place.” She stood up. “Why don’t you print out some of Rudy’s articles and we can go over them after dinner. Right now I’d like to help Rina in the kitchen. Not that she needs my help. She seems to have everything under control-like always.”

Decker pressed the print button. “I can help Rina. Why don’t you go spend some time with Hannah? She seems to prefer you to me.”

“That’s because I let her have free rein in my closet.”

“Whatever the reason, she smiles when she sees you. It’s the only time I ever get to see her teeth.”

Cindy laughed. “Was I that surly?”

“You might have been, but you didn’t live with me. I think your mother got the brunt of your teenage sulkiness.”

“And the woman still speaks to me. What a saint!” She stood up from the chair. “I promised Rina I’d help with the salad. You find out all you can on Banks and we’ll talk later. After all, Primo Ekerling was originally my case.”

“The GTA was originally your case. As far as I know, you’re currently not working Homicide.”

“Correct about that, Lieutenant, but a girl can dream.”

AROUND THE TABLE, everybody was scrubbed clean and garbed in fresh clothes for the Sabbath. Rina had curbed her culinary largesse, deciding on just a single meat entrée of turkey with rice stuffing and fresh cranberry sauce with a side of steamed asparagus. Preceding the bird were two appetizers: carrot ginger soup followed by an arugula and grapefruit salad. Grilled pineapple and peaches rounded out dessert.

“Too much food,” Decker told her after he downed the last little bit of warm, sweet fruit. “As usual, I was a total glutton.”

“I as well,” Koby said.

Decker looked at his son-in-law, six two but rail thin. Maybe it was all those years of food shortages in Ethiopia. For the Sabbath, Koby had on his usual white short-sleeved shirt and black slacks. Sandals were on his feet, and that was a concession. Koby hated shoes.

“Everything was delicious,” Cindy said. “Really light if you didn’t stuff your face.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Rina answered. “I’m trying to cook a little healthier. Hannah made the soup.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.” Hannah shrugged.

“It was delicious, and I believe the proper response is ‘thank you.’”

Hannah smiled. “Thank you, Eema, I’m glad you liked the soup.”

“Did I detect coconut milk?” Koby asked her.

“You did,” Hannah answered.

“Good touch, Hans,” Cindy told her.

“Thank you times two,” Hannah said.

“Please let me clear the dishes,” Decker implored. “I need to move.”

“No argument from me,” Rina told him. “I will gladly leave you the mess while I read the paper.”

“I’ll help you, Daddy,” Cindy said.

Hannah brightened. “Are you two going to talk shop?”

“Maybe,” Cindy answered. “Why? Are you interested in the intricacies of police work?”

“Au contraire, I believe it would be inappropriate for me to hear your discussions. As such, I’d like to be excused from KP-please.”

Rina shot her daughter a look. “Surely you can weasel out with a better excuse than that?”

Cindy smiled. “Even if we don’t talk shop, I would pick up your slack, Hannah, provided your mother approves.”

Hannah’s eyes went to her mother’s face.

Rina wagged a finger. “Next time you make the chicken as well.”

“Deal!” She hugged Cindy. “You’re the best sister in the entire world!”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Cindy agreed.

Hannah now turned her attention to her brother-in-law. “Can you walk me over to a friend’s house?”

Decker said, “I told you I’d do it when I was done with the dishes.”

“I’m sure Koby won’t mind.”

“I’m sure he won’t, but that’s not the point.”

Hannah let go with a deep sigh. Her body was at the dinner table, but her mind was already with her school chums. Koby came to her rescue. “If it’s all right with you, Peter, I would not mind a little walk.” He regarded his father-in-law. “It’s up to you.”