In the past year, Mike Hollander had gone up another pants size. But the increase in girth did not stop him from stuffing a doughnut into his mouth. Crumbs fell onto his shirt and lap, another wad became trapped in the bristles of his walrus mustache. Between chomps, he said to Decker, “Couldn’t keep away from us or did Rina turn out to be a typical pain-in-the-ass wife?”

Decker stared at him, resisting the urge to brush off his tie. “Batting oh for two, Mike.” He glanced around the squad room, what had always seemed like a crowded, archaic place to work. Wood-scarred or metal desks, tables and chairs of the cheapest industrial grade. Never enough room to walk freely. The floors were dingy, the walls needed a paint job. A few computers, but most of the communications were done with rotary phones. The place was hot in the summer, cold in the winter—the interior temperature made tolerable by portable fans or heaters. Yet, compared to the Six-Six in New York, the room seemed state-of-the-art.

He pulled out his chair, put his feet up on his desk. For the first time in umpteen years, the top was clear of paperwork.

Paul MacPherson was snickering. The black detective was on robbery detail this rotation and Decker knew he had better things to do than sit around with a smirk on his face. But damned if he was going to let it bother him. Coolly, Decker said, “Something on your mind, Paul?”

“It’s not nice to leave your wife on your honeymoon, Rabbi,” MacPherson said. “Or do they do that in your religion?”

Decker wondered if he deserved an answer, decided he wasn’t going to let Paul get away with it. “Fact is Rina came out with me. Guess she can’t stand the thought of us being apart.”

“Touching,” MacPherson said.

“I think the man looks pretty content,” Hollander said.

“I think you’re being charitable,” MacPherson said.

“Hey, Rina came out with him,” Hollander said. “He didn’t say he brought the kids.”

“You bring the kids?” MacPherson said.

“No,” Decker answered.

“See,” Hollander said. “He has big plans when he gets home.”

“The rabbi’s makin’ plans,” echoed Ed Fordebrand. He was a big, beefy dick from Homicide, always in need of mouthwash. He claimed his halitosis was a weapon used against the perps. Decker felt it came from Ed’s love of strong cheese. “Let’s hear it for a man with plans.”

MacPherson said, “Yeah, well, if he’s got such big plans, why’s he here in the first place?”

Decker turned to Hollander. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I told him,” Hollander said. “He didn’t believe me.”

MacPherson said, “You expect me to believe you canceled a honeymoon with that delectable wife of yours to look for a runaway?”

Putting it that way, it really did sound absurd. “God’s honest truth,” Decker said.

“You’re an asshole,” MacPherson said.