'It wasn't my decision,' Hardy said, 'but I'd advise against it now. Not that I've had a chance.'
'You haven't talked to him?'
'Not since Friday. I don't even know where he is.'
Glitsky pulled the rubber band apart and sighted through it.
'You can give me that look all you want,' Hardy said, 'but it's a true story. He's gone to ground.'
'All right, let's say I believe you. I'm still having trouble with Panos somehow connected to the jail.'
'Maybe he passes the word through homicide.'
Glitsky snorted. 'Now you are dreaming.'
Hardy lifted his shoulders and immediately regretted it. He didn't care if Glitsky couldn't see how it might happen. Something had happened. Aretha LaBonte was dead in jail and he didn't believe she killed herself. And that left only one other option. 'You can laugh,' Hardy said, 'but I just saw them down there.'
The laughing, if that's what the snort had been, stopped. 'Who? Down where?'
'Roy Panos. Downstairs. One floor down.'
'In homicide?'
'With my close friend Dick Kroll. Evidently checking up on the Creed investigation.'
Glitsky sat up straight. 'What were they checking on, the shoes?'
'What about the shoes?'
It didn't take Glitsky long to tell it.
'So you're saying Terry didn't shoot Creed after all.'
'He still might have. Half a shoe size is close.'
'Going up, okay, but not going down. If the shoe don't fit, you gotta acquit.'
Glitsky frowned at the reference. 'Please,' he said, 'spare me. But my question is: Does Panos even know about that? Thieu hasn't even told Gerson yet.'
Hardy reached for his paper cup and sipped some water. He realized that the aspirin had begun to kick in. Only slightly, but he'd take it. 'If it's any help, I got the impression that they weren't there about Creed anyway. Kroll just said the first plausible thing that came to mind.'
'Okay. And this means what?'
'I don't know. Maybe nothing. But maybe they're all pals, sharing information.'
Glitsky was back with his rubber band, his face set. 'So Panos would know what evidence they still needed? Which would tell him what to plant and where to put it?'
'You said it, not me.'
'It's just what I warned Gerson about.'
'When was that?'
'When this whole thing started, back with Silverman. Right after Wade gave the inspectors his list of suspects.'
A short silence settled; then Hardy said, 'Somebody's got to tell him. Gerson.'
'He doesn't want to know. At least not from me.'
'How about Clarence?'
'How about him?'
'He's not going to want to try this thing if the evidence is bogus. You'd be doing him a favor. Plus, he'd listen to you, as opposed to someone else in this room.'
'Why wouldn't he listen to you?'
Hardy didn't think he needed to give the complete explanation. 'It's my client, Abe,' he said. 'Think about it. You're an objective third party.'
Glitsky knocked, got Jackman's 'Yes' and opened the door. The DA, reading something at his desk and perhaps thinking it was Treya, looked up in mild, pleasant expectancy. But as soon as he saw Glitsky, his expression hardened by a degree. His eyes went down, then came back up. Flat, controlled. He smiled in a perfunctory way.
Feeling something in the gaze, Glitsky stopped halfway to the desk. 'Sorry to bother you, Clarence, but Treya said you might be free, and this is important.'
The smile stayed in place. Jackman gestured at the papers spread around his desk. 'Freedom's relative, Abe, and everything is important. The job is important. What can I do for you?'
'How do you get along with Barry Gerson?'
Jackman took a beat. 'You mean professionally? About the same as I did with you when you had his job. Why?'
'Because he's being used. He's going to be badly embarrassed. Somebody's got to get the message to him, and it can't be me.'
'Why not?'
'He thinks I want his job.'
Jackman pushed himself back a bit, folded his hands on the desk. 'You haven't made that much of a secret, Abe. You've told me the same thing ten times in the past year and a half.'
Glitsky took one of the chairs in front of Jackman's desk. 'True. But for some reason he's thinking I'm interfering with one of his investigations, trying to make him look bad, get him fired or transferred so I can get back in.'
'Why do you think that would be?'
'That's a long story, but essentially because I've asked him for some information on the Silverman homicide, which has turned out to be connected to a few other cases.'
'You're right.' Jackman delivered it as a surprise. 'Ger-son is thinking that.'
Glitsky crossed a leg, scratched at his scar. 'You've talked to him?'
A nod. 'Yesterday.' All trace of warmth had left Jackman's face. 'On Sunday. At home. Actually, it was both Lieutenant Gerson and Dan Rigby, conferenced in.'
Glitsky sucked in a breath. Dan Rigby was the chief of police.
Jackman continued. 'The chief said that since you and Treya were in my inner circle, as he called it, as is Dismas, maybe I should have a word with some or all of you and see if between us we can bring some reason to bear here. So your dropping in today is fortuitous after all. And, as you say, important.'
His formal smile appeared briefly, then vanished. 'The chief mentioned the possibility of filing charges against both you and Diz for conspiracy to obstruct justice in this rash of homicides for which his client-Holiday is it?-has been accused. But the chief thought that in view of your record, your past heroism and so forth, I might be able to exert some influence and get you to stop what he called this misguided campaign to smear Wade Panos.'
Glitsky shook his head in anger and disbelief. 'This is not misguided, Clarence. This is real. They shot at Diz. You know what they've done to Freeman-you've seen him.'
'And that was Panos?'
'Yes.'
'You're sure?'
'Yes, sir. Absolutely.'
'And your certainty is based upon what? Incriminating physical evidence?'
At this, Glitsky sat back, planted his elbows on the arms of his chair. A muscle worked at the side of his jaw. 'I've got a witness,' he said, 'who gave them something that strongly indicates that their evidence is bogus. I'm assuming that's what they called about. Sadie Silverman.'
'That's accurate.' Jackman inclined his head an inch. 'Let me ask you this, Abe. Why did you get this witness? What's your role here? Why are you even involved at all?'
'She came to me, Clarence. Through my father. I didn't seek her out.'
'All right, grant that. Did you then speak with her about her testimony?'
'I didn't coach her, if that's what you're implying. I heard what she had to say, then told her to call homicide.'
'You didn't indicate to her that perhaps one of Mr. Panos's men planted some bogus evidence?'
Glitsky squirmed in the chair, chewed at the inside of his lip.
'I'll take your silence for a yes.' The DA sighed. 'You know, Abe, I hate to say this, but some people seem to
