'Thisis the irascible Biscuit. He is my oldest friend.' Coltrane patted the dog'shead. Jessica saw the blanket bounce up and down with the movement of thepooch's tail. 'Is there anything in the world better than a warm biscuit?'

    Jessicatried to think of something. She could not. There was as good, but not better.She returned to the business at hand. 'Do you know where I might find Hoochie?'

    Coltraneshrugged. '"I wander'd lonely as a cloud that floats on high o'er valesand hills.'"

    Jessicaraised an eyebrow, expecting more. There was no more. 'Bon Jovi?'

    Coltranesmiled. 'Wordsworth.'

    In otherwords, the answer was no. Homeless were just that. Jessica took out thephotograph of Marcellus Palmer, the original victim found at Second and Poplarin 2004. 'Did you know this gentleman?'

    'Ohyes,' Coltrane said. 'Marcellus. We shared many a tankard of kill-devil. Butthat was a long time ago.'

    'Doyou know what happened to him?'

    Coltranenodded sadly. 'I heard he came to an unfortunate end. City buried him.'

    'Doyou know where?'

    Coltranelooked up at the concrete embankment. For a moment there was only the sound ofthe cars passing overhead. 'Now, I did know at one time. Therecollection seems to be pirouetting just at the edge of my memory.'

    Jessicaproduced another five, held it back. 'Think we could coax it back onto the dancefloor?'

    'Ibelieve we can.'

    Themoney was gone in an instant.

    'Uparound Parkwood, I believe.'

    Jessica'sphone rang. She looked at the screen. It was Byrne.

    'Thankyou for your time, Mr. Coltrane.'

    'Alwayswilling to do my part,' he said.

    Jessicatook a few steps away, answered her phone.

    'Whereare you?' she asked.

    'Stillin West Philly.'

    Jessicatold him what she had learned from Abraham Coltrane. Byrne filled her in onwhat she had missed. Two of the other homeless men who had been questioned inthe murder of Marcellus Palmer were dead. The third man was long gone. Someonetold someone that someone's friend had told someone that he was in Florida. Twosomeones was about the extent of any network worth exploring.

    Whenthey met back at the Roundhouse, Jessica checked a roster of the city'sgraveyards.

    Therewas no cemetery in Parkwood.

Chapter 37

    Finnigan'sWake, the popular Irish pub at Third and Spring Garden Streets, in the NorthernLiberties section of the city, was packed with a who's who from the departmentand the DA's office, as well as defense attorneys, paralegals, FBI agents,commissioners, medical examiner's investigators. As always, everyone clusteredwith their tribe. David Albrecht was there, shooting from the sidelines. RussDiaz was with his new team. Tom Weyrich was there, looking a little better thanJessica had seen him look in a long time. Maybe it was the Guinness. DennisStansfield stood in the corner with two of his old squad mates.

    Thejampacked party was held on the second floor, also known as the Lincoln Level.After Abraham Lincoln was assassinated, his body was transported toPhiladelphia to lie in state at Independence Hall. That night his body had beenkept in a Northern Liberties funeral parlor, and the doors from thatestablishment became part of the second floor at Finnigan's Wake. More than onepint had been lifted to Honest Abe in this room.

    As theevening wore on a number of people got up and told their Michael Drummondstories. Like all leaving parties, the first hour's worth of stories were mild,only somewhat ribald recounts of incidents that happened around the office. Thesecond hour, seeing as Michael Drummond was about to become part of theopposition to most of the people in the room, became a little more adventurous,if not downright drunkenly libelous.

    Ateleven p.m. Michael Drummond himself took the microphone. Although Drummond wasnot yet forty, there was a lot of fresh blood in the DA's office and he wasreferred to as the old man.

    'Yes,it's true that I joined the office after an unfortunate incident with a Model AFord,' he said, drawing polite laughter.

    Hewent on to thank just about everyone he'd ever worked with, on both sides ofthe aisle, taking particular care to heap praise upon all the judges - men andwomen in front of whom he would shortly be arguing for the defense - regardlessof whether they were at the party or not.

    Soonit became time for him to spill the beans. With a clank of a spoon on a crystalglass, he got everyone's undivided attention.

    'Folks,I have an announcement to make,' Drummond said.

    Everyonequieted down. This was, more or less, the reason they had gathered.

    'Intwo weeks I will start work as a junior partner at Paulson Derry Chambers.Until then, I'm on the job. So watch yourselves.'

    Arumble went through the room. Paulson Derry Chambers was one of the mostprominent firms in the city. Everyone expected Mike Drummond to go for thedollar, but a junior partnership at Paulson Derry was like stepping intoValhalla. Applause followed.

    'AlthoughI didn't know him personally, I'd like to leave you with the wise words of Pericles,'Drummond added. 'He said: "What you leave behind is not what isengraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others."'

    'Hear,hear,' someone said.

    Everyoneraised a glass.

    'Here'sto old dogs,' a slightly inebriated Nick Palladino added.

    Drummondlaughed. 'And soft bones.'

    Everyonereturned to their small groups. The detectives gathered near the tall windowsoverlooking Spring Garden Street and the view of the Ben Franklin Bridge.

    'Ah,shit,' Dino said after everyone sat down.

    'What?'Jessica asked.

    Dinostood up, looked in his pockets, patted himself down like a suspect. 'I can'tbelieve this.'

    'What'swrong?'

    Deadpan:'I think I left my lip gloss at home.'

    Someonesnorted.

    Dinopointed at Byrne's man bag, hanging off the back of his chair. 'Hey, Kev. Youwouldn't happen to have any in there, would you?'

    Muffledlaughs around the table. Byrne shook his head. 'I'm a lot bigger than you are,you know that, right?'

    'Iknow,' Dino said. 'But you're also older.'

    'Bywhat, five or six months?'

    'Still.'

    'Thatjust means it will take me a few seconds longer to get across the room.'

    Dinoheld up both hands. 'Just don't hit me with your man bag.'

    Byrneshot to his feet.

    NickPalladino ran to the bar.

    Bymidnight most of the younger players had moved on or gone home. It was a worknight. There were young families waiting. After the midnight hour the floor wasleft to the serious drinkers.

    Jessica,who was just about out the door, stood with Byrne near the elevator. MichaelDrummond found them, crossed the room. He'd had his share of cheer, and more.

    'Thanksfor coming, guys.'

    Drummondgave Jessica a brotherly hug, shook Byrne's hand, clapped him on the shoulder.

    'Youdo realize we'll probably go up against each other one of these days,' Byrnesaid.

    Drummondnodded. 'Yeah. I feel like I've gone over to the dark side.'

    'Themoney should help ease your pain.'

    Drummondsmiled. He glanced at his watch. 'I've got to be up in about three hours,' hesaid. 'We're moving my mother into an assisted- living facility.'

    'Doyou need another pair of hands?' Byrne asked.

    'No,we're good. Thanks.' Drummond slipped on his overcoat. 'I just have to be inParkwood around six-thirty.'