Betrayal

issued vehicle-he and Treya and five-year-old Rachel had pushed Zack's baby carriage for a mile or so on the foot- and-bike path that ran behind their home at the edge of the Presidio's forest. In their backyard, in the still-warm evening, both kids swung on the new swingset Glitsky and Dismas Hardy and Hardy's son Vincent had built about three years before. Dinner was a store-bought roast chicken, the skin peeled off, with fresh steamed spinach and a side dish of noodles for the kids-since Glitsky's heart attack six years ago, Treya wouldn't let him eat anything with cholesterol in it.

By eight o'clock, both kids were asleep in their separate rooms down the hallway off the kitchen. Abe and Treya sipped tea sitting together in dim light on the leather love seat in the small living room. They had redecorated the room for the birth of Rachel, and now what had been a worn and dark interior sported blond hardwood floors accented with colorful throw rugs, yellow Tuscan walls, Mission-style furniture, plantation shutters.

Taciturn nearly to the point of muteness, Glitsky was happy to let Treya carry the conversational ball as she told him about her day, the machinations of the DA's office, Clarence Jackman's dealings with the board of supervisors, the mayor, the chief of police. It was endlessly entertaining because they both knew all the players and because the city was in many ways such a truly loony and fascinating place to live.

Today's drama featured Treya's boss on a tightrope walk between Mayor Kathy West's edict that declared San Francisco a sanctuary city for illegal immigrants, and the U.S. attorney's response that he was going to cut off every federal law enforcement grant to the city if she did anything to hamper the Justice Department's crackdown on arresting and deporting these people.

'That I'd like to see,' Glitsky said. 'What's he going to do, arrest Kathy?'

'If she actually does anything other than talk the talk.'

'You think she will?'

'I don't know. She's talking about it.' Treya's laugh was a low contralto. 'Talking about not just talking about it.'

'Very bold.'

'Tres. But you never know. She might really do something.'

'So what's Clarence going to do?'

Treya laughed again. Sometimes Glitsky thought that her talent for laughter was what had attracted him the most about her. After his first wife, Flo, had died, he had thought for a long while that he would never laugh again. 'Clarence,' Treya said, 'has got eight lawyer positions funded by federal money, but the rest of his budget comes from the city. He is going to wait.'

'He's a good waiter,' Glitsky said.

'One of the best.' She put a hand on his leg. 'But here I've been, me, me, me. You seem-I don't mean to spook you-but slightly more upbeat than you've been.'

Glitsky shrugged. 'Just getting used to the new world order. I actually had a possibly productive talk with Darrel Bracco today.'

'I like Darrel. And possibly productive? Wow. The man gushes.'

Sipping his tea, Glitsky gave her a sideways look. 'Maybe saved him some hours of slog, that's all.'

'Okay, retract the gush.' She squeezed his leg. 'And next you were probably going to tell me what Darrel talked to you about. If you were going to keep on talking, I mean. Not that you have to. No pressure.'

This time his smile broke clear. 'He was going to be spending half of forever looking into the case files of this lawyer who disappeared last summer because some poor heartbroken girl thinks maybe he didn't run away and desert her and her mother after all. Maybe he was killed instead.'

'Is there any reason she thinks that?'

'Not that Darrel knows. But the thing that makes it so sad is that her mother killed herself over it a couple of months ago, and the girl just can't accept it.'

Treya took a beat and sipped her tea. 'And people say you're not really all that fun. How can that be?' She turned to him. 'That heartening, upbeat story was what's made you feel better about the job?'

'Talking to Darrel,' Glitsky said.

'Ah. The silver lining.'

'I mean, first, you've got to believe Charlie Bowen was a homicide, which there's no sign of, so why are you even looking?'

'Charlie Bowen,' Treya said. 'Where do I know that name?'

'He's the father. The missing person.'

'The lawyer? I knew him, Abe. He's the guy, Diz got all his files.'

'Our own Diz?'

'Our own Diz.' Treya gave his leg another squeeze. 'Maybe Darrel ought to talk to him.'

31

The next morning, Friday, May 4, Glitsky and Treya drove in to work together. Through the largesse of Clarence Jackman, Treya had a dedicated parking spot behind the jail that she considered perhaps the job's single greatest perk.

Yesterday's high pressure front had scoured the sky clean and banished the marine layer halfway out to the Farallones, so the sun packed an unseasonable warmth. Though there was no breeze at all, some fluke of nature had delivered a fragrant and powerful olfactory blast from the city's main flower market around the corner. Treya, getting out on the passenger side, looked over the car's hood at her husband and said, 'This day is too beautiful. Do you smell that? If we were truly evolved spirits, no way would we go in to work today.'

'No? What would we do instead?'

'Whatever we wanted. Dance, sing, take the ferry to Sausalito.'

Glitsky met her in front of the car and took her hand as they started toward the Hall of Justice. 'If we were truly evolved,' he said, 'we'd probably get fired. So, luckily, we're not.'

'Well, maybe you're not.' She ceased walking, effectively stopping them both, and sniffed the air aggressively. 'But I'm at least taking one extra minute here to enjoy this.'

'Smelling the roses, as it were.'

'You should try it. Close your eyes a second, breathe it in.'

Glitsky did as instructed, then opened his eyes. 'Yep, roses,' he said, 'and then all that other stuff.'

When Glitsky opened the door to homicide's reception area, he was looking at Dismas Hardy, who was dressed for work in his suit and tie and looking at his watch. 'Two minutes late,' Hardy said. 'What kind of example is that to set for your team?'

'Treya held me up,' he said. 'We stopped in the parking lot to smell the flowers.'

'How were they?'

'Really great. Flowerlike.' Glitsky greeted the two clerks that sat at their desks and then swung open the door to the counter that divided the room, indicating that Hardy follow him in. Opening the door to his office, Glitsky asked, 'Did we have an appointment?'

'No.'

'I didn't think so.'

'But you called me last night, if you remember, which I bet you do. I didn't get in till too late to call you back. Something about Charlie Bowen?' Hardy took one of the chairs from against the back wall and pulled it up to sit on it.

Glitsky got himself seated behind his desk. 'His name got you down here first thing in the morning?'

'Not really. I've got a hearing downstairs at ten anyway.' Hardy crossed a leg. 'So you're going to tell me they found his body?'

'Why do you say that?'

'Let's see. You're homicide. You call me about a guy who went missing ten months ago. Call me crazy, but I figure maybe he's suddenly become a homicide.'