'This is Dr. Morgan at the hospital. There's been a terrible accident.'
'What? Who?' The voice was instantly full of panic. D'Agosta wondered if Dominic had a wife and kids. Probably did, the scumbag.
'I must speak to a Mrs. Lydia D'Agosta immediately.'
'Well, ah, wait-yes, yes, of course.' There was a fumbling sound, a muffled voice, and then his wife's voice came on. 'Yes? What is it? What's happened?'
D'Agosta carefully depressed the hang-up bar, took a couple of deep breaths, and made his way back toward the table. Even before he got there, his cell phone was ringing. He answered.
'Vinnie? It's Lydia. Are you all right?'
'Sure. Why do you ask? You sound upset.'
'No, no, I'm fine. I just heard . I don't know, something about the hospital. I was worried.' She was all flustered and confused.
'Wasn't me.'
'You know how it is, being out here like this, hearing everything secondhand . '
'You still at work?'
'I'm in the parking lot. Just pulling out now.'
'Right. See you.' D'Agosta snapped the phone shut and reseated himself. You mean Chester Dominic was just pulling out, don't you? He felt a horrible prickly heat crawling over his skin. The Guinness had arrived, in a real imperial pint, with two inches of cream on the top. He raised it and took a long pull, then another, feeling the cool liquid loosening the tightness in his throat. He put the pint down to find Laura Hayward looking at him intently.
'You were thirsty,' she said.
'Yeah.' To hide his face, he took another pull. Who was he kidding? They'd been separated half a year now. He couldn't really blame her for that-not too much, anyway. And Vinnie Junior, his son, didn't want to move, either. Lydia wasn't a bad person at heart, but this was a low blow. A really low blow. He wondered if little Vinnie knew about it.
'Bad news?'
D'Agosta glanced at Hayward. 'Sort of.'
'Anything I can do?'
'No, thanks.' He sat up. 'I'm sorry. I'm lousy company tonight.'
'Don't worry. It's not a date.'
There was a silence, then Hayward said, 'I read your two novels.'
D'Agosta felt himself reddening. This was the last conversation he wanted to have.
'They were great. I just wanted to tell you that.'
'Thanks.'
'I loved the deadpan style. Gritty. Those books really captured what it's like to be on the job. Not like most of the phony police fiction around.'
D'Agosta nodded. 'So where'd you find them? On a remainder table?'
'I bought them when they were first published. As it happens, I've been sort of following your career.'
'Really?' D'Agosta was surprised. When they'd worked together on the subway murders years ago, he hadn't thought he'd made much of an impression on her. Not a good impression, anyway. Then again, she'd always played her cards close.
'Really I-' She hesitated. 'I was still finishing up my master's at NYU when we worked together. That was my first big case. I was ambitious as hell, and to me, just starting, you looked like just the kind of cop I wanted to be. So I was really curious when you went off to Canada to write novels. I wondered why a cop as good as you would give it up.'
'I had a lot I wanted to say-about crime, criminals, the justice system. And about people in general.'
'You said it well.'
'Not well enough.'
Her pint was empty and so was his.
'Another round?' he asked.
'Sure. Vinnie, I've got to tell you, I couldn't believe it when I saw you in sergeant's stripes with a Southampton P.D. badge. I thought maybe I was dealing with a twin brother.'
D'Agosta tried to muster a laugh. 'Life.'
'That was some case we worked on, those subway murders.'
'Sure was. You remember the riot?'
She shook her head. 'What a sight. Like something in a movie. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.'
'I missed it. I was about half a mile underground, finishing what Captain Waxie started.'
