doctors weren’t sure the kid was going to pull through, but Phil never left his side. At first I thought it was Phil’s dedication to the job. You know — if Seth came around, he wanted to be there to ask questions. Anyway, I was there when the doctor told him that he thought Seth was going to live. He was so happy — I was there, Frank, and I saw his face. I saw how he looked when the doctor said that. Lefebvre didn’t want that boy to die, and he never could have murdered him. Whoever says that is full of crap.”
“Maybe something changed—”
“I was there,” she repeated. “I don’t know why Seth was so important to him, but if you had seen them together, you’d be as certain as I am that Phil Lefebvre would never have hurt him, let alone kill him.”
“Is that the position the
“No. I was pulled off those stories. John Walters was news editor then, and he thought I was too close to Phil to be objective. It made me madder than hell, but around that same time my dad took a turn for the worse — to be honest, I was too busy with him to think of anything else.”
“When was the last time you saw Lefebvre?”
“The day he left town.” She frowned. “Was that the day his plane crashed?”
“Probably.” He watched the play of emotions on her face, then asked, “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It will be in the reports you have. I was interviewed — some might say grilled — by the LPPD about my last conversation with him.”
He sighed with impatience.
“All right, all right. He seemed upset. But not so agitated that I thought he was about to kill the kid whose life he saved! And I just remembered something else — something I told Vince Adams about a dozen times, and he ignored me. Phil said he would meet me for lunch the next day, which shows he planned to come back right away, right?”
“Yes, but he told other people he was flying out to see Matt Arden for a few days.”
“What did Arden say?”
“He said Lefebvre had called him, but just to talk about old times and to ask how he was doing. He said Lefebvre hadn’t mentioned any plans to see him.”
She fell into a brooding silence. He let it stretch, caught up in his own thoughts. He wondered how well anyone had really known Phil Lefebvre.
“Did you know Elena Rosario?” he asked Irene.
“Who?”
“Narcotics detective who was with Lefebvre the night they found the Randolphs. She quit the department right after Lefebvre went missing.”
“No,” she said, “not really.”
He would have asked more, but the phone rang.
“Harriman,” he answered.
“Frank — good to have you back.”
“Hello, Pete. How’d you know I was home?”
“Partners have no secrets, right?”
“Who told you — Carlson?”
“That asswipe? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Then Cliff called you.”
“Cliff and I go way back, you know?”
“Terrific.”
Pete missed the sarcasm. “So he told me you and Ben found Lefebvre. I hope you pissed on his bones before you packed them up.”
Frank was silent.
“Listen,” Pete said uneasily, “no need to take that wrong. I want to help you out here. I called to invite you to breakfast. Me and some of the other guys who were around back then thought we’d bring you up to speed.”
“It’s Sunday. I didn’t get yesterday off, and I don’t want to spend Sunday working.”
“But—”
“Cold cases, Pete. They can wait.”
“Well, we’re all together here at the Galley.”
“All? Who’s with you?”
“Vince, Jake, Reed — a couple of other guys. Why don’t you come on down and join us? Then the rest of the day is yours.”
“The day’s already mine.”
“Frank, c’mon,” he said. “Let’s get this over with and behind us, okay?”
Irene was tracing her hand along his spine. He looked down at her; her hand stilled.
