“Ormsby had a Browning 1911 in his nightstand,” Moore said. He began rolling down his shirtsleeves, like he was getting ready to leave. “Fully loaded with wadcutters. Seven rounds.” He tugged both sleeves straight. “If I’m going downstairs in the middle of the night to check on a noise in my big empty mansion, I’m sure as hell not leaving my forty-five upstairs with my reading glasses.” He buttoned his cuffs, first one, then the other.

Keegan’s mind raced to catch up. “So maybe the old man didn’t hear the intruder,” Keegan said. “Maybe he just went down to the kitchen for a glass of water and surprised the guy.”

Moore had started to rise, but he sank back down in his chair. He looked Keegan over. “Who said anything about a kitchen?”

Shit. “The widow told me,” Keegan lied, quickly.

The lieutenant nodded. He picked up his glass and shook the remaining slivers of ice into his mouth. He crunched them up and swallowed. “How well do you know your girlfriend?”

Keegan waited a beat before he answered. Had the lieutenant seen them talking on the portico? “Just enough to speak to,” he said. “Gossip over the back fence.”

The lieutenant nodded. “She’s got that wide-eyed Audrey Hepburn thing going,” he said, rising to his feet again. “She plays a good innocent, but she’s lying about something.” He pulled on his jacket and turned to the door, adjusting the lapels. Then looked back at Keegan as if something had just occurred to him. “Ormsby was shot with a .38,” he said. “I’m going to need to take yours with me.”

This, Keegan realized, was the actual purpose of the lieutenant’s visit. The bourbon, the banter, it was all foreplay. “My gun?” Keegan said. “What the hell for?”

“You know what for,” Moore said. “I’ve got to clear it.” He fastened the top button of his jacket and smoothed the lapels again. “The news will be all over this when the story breaks,” he said. “I’ve got to dot every T.”

“I’d love to help you out,” Keegan said, “but I keep it down in my office, like I told you.” It was, in fact, in the trunk of his car. He hadn’t yet decided what to do with it.

The lieutenant nodded. “You still on West Sixth?” he said. “I can swing by tomorrow. Just leave it with your secretary if you’re going out.”

Keegan reached for the two empty glasses on the coffee table. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said. He held up the glasses. “Come on by when you get done tomorrow, and we’ll have another round.”

Moore paused, and then he nodded and picked up his Panama hat. He tilted it back on his head, so his face was fully visible. “Date,” he said.