Delsa hung on knowing it was about to get good.

"Yesterday, Juanita Miller comes home from work, her brother Maurice is eating pork and beans, the can sitting on the sink. Juanita blows up. She bought that can of Van Camp's hickory-smoked pork and beans for herself, not her lazy-ass brother. She yells at him to go get her another can right this minute. Her lazy-ass brother tells her to get fucked. Instead:"

Eleanor was grinning, waiting for the punch line.

"Juanita calls Homicide, calls us direct. You know how she has the number?" Wendell said. "A Homicide card was left at that house one time we stopped by to ask about Maurice. She tells the desk Maurice is the one killed the man on St. Antoine last year, in his SUV. She's asked does she know where the gun is. She thinks it's in the house someplace. Does she know where Maurice is. Juanita says, 'He's in the kitchen eating my fuckin beans.'"

Eleanor laughed out loud and Delsa said, "You know what Jackie always says."

"About thanking God they're stupid? That one?"

"That one."

"I also meant to tell you," Wendell said, "I called Avern Cohn this morning. I think I've known Avern my whole adult life. You can't trust him, he talks out of both sides of his mouth at the same time, but he's good at making deals for his clients. I asked was he representing Montez Taylor. He goes, 'Oh, what did the boy do now?' Like he isn't on top of the Paradiso hits. I told him Montez pulled out your card yesterday and threatened me with it. I don't leave him alone he's gonna bring you in to defend his raggedy-ass name. I said for him to tell Montez to think up a more interesting story for us, don't make himself so lily-white. Give you a chance to come up with one of your famous plea deals. I thought he'd like that."

Delsa listened to every word. "What'd he say?"

"He played dumb, like he didn't know what I was talking about. And that's hard for Avern, considering the high opinion he has of himself. But that's the way I see it's gonna happen. Montez gives us his shooters in return for twenty-five to life. He can be out for his sixtieth birthday party." Wendell said, "Frank, I'm leaving Eleanor with you," and walked out.

Delsa looked up at her standing by his desk now holding a folder, ready.

She said, "Frank, you won't believe this."

He almost asked her to wait, let him make a phone call first. But she was eager to tell whatever it was he wouldn't believe and he said, "You tell me, Eleanor, you know I will. Have a seat."

She sat down and rolled the chair around the corner of the desk to face Delsa and tugged at her skirt without getting it down much on her thighs. She placed her folder on the desk and took out witness statements, requests for laboratory services stamped FIREARMS and Medical Examiner postmortem summaries and opinions.

"I go to Firearms to check on Paradiso and the girl, Chloe. The first thing I find out, two different guns were used, both nine-millimeter."

"How'd they treat you?"

"Firearms? They couldn't of been nicer if I'd blown them. I'm kidding. The gun they're pretty sure of is a Smith amp; Wesson, the one that did Paradiso. The other one, they're leaning toward a Sig Sauer. It's all, you know, lands and grooves, the way the bullet twists: We didn't get into any of that in Vice. So then they checked out the bullets on I-BIS, and I have no idea what that stands for."

"I think it's Something Ballistics Identification-no, Interpretation System," Delsa said. "Compare our slugs to bullets from other shootings. They found a match?"

Eleanor said, "You know the guy that was shot thirteen times?"

"If this is what I'm not gonna believe," Delsa said, "I don't. Wendell said Fatboy was shot with a Ruger."

"I know that," Eleanor said. "The reason I mention Fatboy, he was in on a robbery, a party store on Springwells, the day before he was killed. Shots were fired in the store. They dug the bullets out of the wall and put them on I-BIS, pretty sure they're from the same gun that did Fatboy." Eleanor shook her head. "The ones in the wall were from a Smith amp; Wesson. Then I come along and ask about the Paradiso slugs. Frank, they compare to the ones dug out of the wall. They're as close a match as you can get."

Delsa had to stop and think.

"But those guys couldn't of done Paradiso."

"No, they were already in custody. Wendell told you Kenny sold guns he managed to pick up? I went over to Four Northeast to ask him what he did with the Smith, since it wasn't in his apartment. We're in the interview room with the glass between us? Kenny goes, 'I'll tell you if you show me your tits.' I hadn't heard that since Pine Knob, Jesus, trying to get backstage."

Delsa let it pass.

"I said to Kenny, 'Shame on you, I'm old enough to be your mother, you punk. Tell me what you did with the gun or no deal on the robbery.' He said he sold it to a guy. What guy? A white guy he ran into at Paycheck's Lounge in Hamtramck. Gave Kenny four-fifty and took the gun off his hands. I said, 'This guy walks up and asks if you happen to have a gun for sale?' Well, actually the guy called and Kenny told him where to meet him. I asked how the guy knew he sold guns. He said somebody must've told him. The guy did come by Kenny's place one time before, but didn't see anything he liked."

Delsa said, "Just the one guy, nobody with him?"

Eleanor said, "Frank, I looked through your case file and read Kelly Barr's statement about seeing two white guys, so I asked Kenny if there was another guy. There was, and Kenny happened to sell him a Sig Sauer when they came to the apartment. Then, by the time the other guy called him, Kenny had the Smith and they met at Paycheck's."

Eleanor waited for Delsa to ask the key question.

But he didn't. He wanted to know about matches, if Firearms came up with any more.

"One," Eleanor said, "but it wasn't a homicide. A guy shot at in his car, on Gratiot. I had to go to the Ninth to get the report. It's in here," she said, shuffling through her papers, "somewhere. Santonio Davis, black male, forty-one, known drug dealer. He's driving north on Gratiot, mid-afternoon, and two white guys in a car start shooting at him. Santonio gets up to sixty weaving through traffic, bangs off a car, swerves over to the southbound side of Gratiot and gets hit by a semi. Santonio's okay, tells the police somebody was shooting at him. Firearms takes the bullets they dug out of the upholstery and the dash, puts them on I-BIS and comes up with a probable match to both guns used at Paradiso's, the Smith and the Sig."

"You're gonna have this case closed," Delsa said, "any minute now."

Eleanor said, "While you're still working on Kelly."

"I'm making progress."

"I'll bet you are."

"She's afraid of Montez. Kelly tells me a little bit at a time. I'm writing up a supplemental statement."

"She's teasing you, Frank."

"She thinks she's smarter than I am."

"She probably is. Did you give her that business, she's a witness and you have to keep your distance?"

"I tell her there's nothing more serious than a homicide."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't mind fooling around. I know you, Frank. How come you haven't called me?"

Giving him the look now, the one she'd been giving him since Maureen's funeral.

"You wore me out that time."

The Saturday he'd gone to Eleanor's for dinner and didn't get home until Sunday evening.

"Frank, I'm not looking to get married again, I just want to have some fun. Anyway," Eleanor said, "while you're hanging out with Kelly Barr I'm looking for two white guys who shoot people. I got three off CaseTrax. The first one a black male thirty-seven having lunch at Baby Sister's Kitchen."

"Ray Jacks," Delsa said, "last November."

"Two white guys come in. The waitress, according to the PCR, said they were middle-aged and looked like workingmen. They ask Ray if he's Ray Jacks. He says, 'What can I do for you?' They blast him, and hit his bodyguard on the way out."