“Thank you,” Merle said, beaming.

From across the room, I saw Lauten Hartley, by the bar.

“How are you doing?” Merle asked Kelly.

“Much better than the last time we talked, Detective,” she said.

I excused myself and let them chat, moving slowly across the room as a dozen bagpipers filed off the stage with their instruments and threaded through the crowd.

Straining to get past them, I found myself ten feet from Lauten Hartley, who turned, a drink in hand.

He smiled, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Chief Senza, watching us.

“Detective Marsh,” Hartley said. He wore a dark blue suit and a red tie. Politician power colors. “If I had known you were coming over, I would’ve grabbed you a drink from the bar.”

“Oh, I gave up the stuff,” I said. “I just wanted to take a moment to see if you’re fitting in okay. Continue to bury the hatchet. Bygones be bygones and all.”

Hartley’s head cocked about ten degrees. “Well, I don’t believe you for a second, Detective.” He paused. “About the drinking, I mean. I swore I’ve seen you in a liquor store recently. Maybe in the numbered streets?”

Inside, my heart stopped for a beat, but I kept calm on the surface. People crowded close to us, and Hartley moved away from the bar and closer to me.

“I’m sure you’re wrong,” I said.

Senza walked up then, probably coming to make sure I wasn’t creating conflict.

“Wrong about what?” he asked.

“Crime rates being up,” I said. “Mr. Hartley has a passion about crime in the numbered streets. But not just that. He’s got tentacles out into other areas of the community. Like north of town. He’s a better asset for our department than I originally thought.”

“I agree a hundred percent,” Senza said. “And crime is down in the numbereds, Mr. Hartley. Last four months straight.”

But Hartley was stuck on my comment about “north of town.” I could see the curiosity on his face.

“Well, I’ve got to mingle,” I said, patting the two men on the shoulders.

As I walked off, my heart pounded, and I wondered if Hartley had me on camera breaking into the Golden Oaks. His comment about the liquor store. I was okay falling on the sword, but I didn’t want it to stick into Remy.

And no sooner had I thought her name than I saw my partner. Being wheeled out to the balcony by Darren Gattling, who spoke to her for a second and then left.

I moved across the room, and out into the night. Onto a large terrace that overlooked 5th Street. There were two buildings from the 1930s that were getting a facelift, and metal scaffolding rose four stories into the air beside us.

“I thought doctor’s orders were to stay at home,” I said. “Watch Netflix.”

“And waste this dress?” Remy motioned. She was wearing a black-and-white striped number that cut off at the thigh. In a wheelchair it looked even shorter. “You know how many chances I’m gonna get to come to one of these things and not have to wear my blues?”