Glitsky was saying something to her about the new software they should be getting sometime in the next decade that would do it all faster and better. Hardy, in low enough spirits already, found the moment nearly unbearably sad.
Perhaps sensing a shadow behind him, Glitsky stopped in midsentence, straightened up and turned around quickly. Everything from his stance to his fierce glare announced his readiness to fight whoever it might be. When he saw it was Hardy, something went out of him. For an instant, he seemed almost disappointed, but immediately the expression shifted to concern. 'You all right?' he asked. 'Is everybody all right?'
By this he meant, of course, their families. Hardy showing up unannounced in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, looking shell-shocked and drawn, set off every alarm in Glitsky's head.
Hardy's reply didn't ease his mind. 'Got a minute?'
Excusing himself to his staff, he led his friend to the next office and closed the door behind them. 'What?'
'You haven't heard about David?'
Glitsky read his friend's face and his gaze went flat. 'Don't tell me he's dead.'
'Not yet, but it doesn't look good.' The telling took less than a minute, during which Glitsky took a seat behind his desk. Hardy remained standing, drained, hands in his pockets. 'I've just come from the hospital. Again. Gina's back down there, too.'
Glitsky slouched in his chair, ringers templed at his lips. Hardy was rambling on. 'I don't even know why I'm here, to tell you the truth. I answered calls all morning at the office, but the thought of work…' He shrugged. 'Sorry to just barge in.'
'If memory serves,' Glitsky said, 'I've done it to you a few times.'
But the usual banter couldn't find a toehold, and the two men filled the space managing their silent emotions. Finally, Hardy pulled a chair around and sat heavily. 'I really don't know why I'm here,' he repeated.
Glitsky let another minute pass. 'He was walking home? That's it?'
Hardy nodded. He was wrestling with something, and finally came out with it. 'I almost told Blanca I thought it was Panos.'
At this, Glitsky's eyes sharpened. He stirred in his chair. 'Do you?'
He shook his head. 'I can't see it. Kroll called me up this morning as soon as he heard. He seemed genuinely upset.'
'And that rules out Panos? That he didn't inform his lawyer? I wouldn't tell my lawyer if I was planning to beat up or kill somebody. Not before, not after. But what was David to Panos? I know you've got that lawsuit, but…'
'Just keep repeating thirty million dollars, Abe, and everything will become clear. If we win all the way large, say, it's not impossible Panos is on the street.' Talking about specifics somehow took Hardy's mind off the big picture, and he too became more animated. 'Kroll offered David four the other day to settle.'
'Four million? What'd the old man say?'
'He laughed at him. Kroll then got huffy and said he was going to go around David and talk to me directly, I guess on the theory that I'm a wuss and I'd cave. David said he was welcome to try, but I'd probably just send it back to him, which was true. Anyway, Kroll got a little mad and told him he'd better watch out.'
'For what?'
'Maybe for what happened.'
Glitsky cocked his head. 'You really think that?'
'I'm not really thinking anything, yet, Abe. We're talking boots and clubs, maybe nightsticks. Your average street banger doesn't have a sap.'
'But you said 'maybe' nightsticks.'
'True. But we're also talking downtown. Unless you're walking around with lumber, you're not going to find a club lying on the street, are you?'
'Maybe a tire iron. Or the butt of a gun.'
Hardy shook his head, disagreeing. 'A couple of whacks on the head with a tire iron and you're dead directly, wouldn't you think? Maybe a gun, though.'
'So what are you saying?'
'It's coming to me as we're talking, so I'm not sure. Whoever did it didn't come to rob him. They showed up carrying heavy tools and ambushed him.'
The phone rang twice. The answering machine picked up with its warm and sunny greeting. 'Glitsky, payroll. Leave a message.' Some sergeant left his number and asked if he could get a call back about his accumulated comp time.
Neither Glitsky nor Hardy acknowledged the interruption. As soon as the sergeant had rung off, Hardy continued. 'You might as well know the other thing that happened yesterday. Both Blanca and Jeff Elliot thought it might have something to do with it, but I just came from talking to Gina, and it doesn't.'
'Okay. What?'
He told Glitsky about the engagement, the ring, the remote question about Gina's possible involvement with another man. 'Anyway, I asked. I don't know whether it set our friendship back two years or if she was flattered that I could think she was somehow keeping a stable of men on the side, but either way, she wasn't lying. Enough for me, anyway.'
'I'd take that.'
'So. There we are.' Suddenly he found he had talked it all out. And again, it left him exhausted. 'And so what, huh? Nobody's even looking.'
Glitsky almost said that if Freeman came to, he would be able to tell them what happened; if he died, the case would go to homicide and maybe Paul Thieu would get it and discover something, but he realized this wouldn't be a consoling thought. And if anybody else besides Thieu picked up a case like this, an old man who lingered, no clues, it would remain a mystery forever. So he shrugged. 'Blanca's okay,' he said. 'Maybe he'll get something.'
'Yeah.' Hardy dragged his old bones up and stood. 'Well…'
The phone rang again. Glitsky glared at it, then got up himself, making no move to answer it. He was coming around to let Hardy out when he heard the voice of Marcel Lanier. He stopped and picked up the receiver.
'Talk to me,' he said.
Hardy was at the door and raised a hand in silent farewell. Glitsky, listening with one ear, snapped his ringers, got his attention, waved him back in. 'Yeah, I'm here,' he said into the mouthpiece. He listened intently for almost a full minute, then said, 'I appreciate it, Marcel. Thanks.'
Hardy stood right at the door. 'What was that about?'
Glitsky raised a hand and settled a haunch on the corner of his desk, his face hardened in concentration.
Hardy couldn't take it. 'What, for Christ's sake?'
Glitsky expelled a lot of air. 'One of Panos's guys got shot last night. The kid who found Silverman. Creed. Matt Creed.'
'You knew him?'
'I only met him once, Monday night, a couple of hours after I left you, in fact. But he made an impression. Remember I told my dad it was a bad idea to go to Silverman's when nobody in homicide called him back?'
Hardy nodded. 'Sure.'
'Well, he went that night anyway and I had to pull him out. Creed was there.'
'Doing what?'
'Just walking the beat. He saw the light and stopped. Then I showed up. We had a little party together. But a nice kid.'
'And somebody shot him?'
Glitsky's head dropped, came back up. 'Last night. On the beat.' He paused to let Hardy digest it. 'Marcel was just talking to Paul Thieu and heard about the connection to Panos. He thought I'd want to know.'
'Why's that?'
'We had a talk about Wade recently, Marcel and I. I thought maybe he could pass a message along to Gerson. Save him some trouble.' A shrug. 'Turns out he couldn't.'
'What was the message?'
