“Gay?” Benderhoff’s eyes widened. “No indication. Why? What do you got for me?”

Decker showed him the pictures of Noam and Hersh, and, at length, explained the purpose of his visit. Benderhoff stared at the pictures as he listened, nodding at certain points. After Decker had finished, Benderhoff thought a moment, ran his fingers through his hair.

“You know,” he said, “this is a little out of my field. But there are a couple of local places where…you know, if you’re Mr. Businessman-in-the-closet-with-everything-to-lose, you can go somewhere for a little fun. Very posh. Very discreet. Far as I know, there’s been no trouble with the law. All of the members are the law-and-order types. But you might want to try Vice on that. They’d know more than I would.”

“The clubs would all be closed at this hour, wouldn’t they?”

“I’m sure they would.”

Decker said, “I think the easiest thing is to show Stoner a bunch of the pictures. We’ll age-match them and I’ll throw mine in with the stooges.”

“Might be difficult with Mrs. Stoner there.” Benderhoff let out a small laugh. “I could use my charm. Smile at her with my baby blues and she’d follow me anywhere.”

“When were you planning to talk to Stoner?”

“I don’t know,” Benderhoff said. “Around seven, maybe eight. Something like that.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s four-thirty now. Good Sam’s in the neighborhood. We can grab a couple hours’ sleep upstairs, gulp down some coffee, and give it a whirl.”

Decker said that sounded good.

Benderhoff paused, then said, “This kid a relative of yours?”

“No,” Decker answered without pausing. “I’m doing a favor for my wife. She’s friendly with the family.”

“Must be some wife.”

Decker pulled out a photo of Rina—a professional one she had taken right before they married. Decker had wanted something to put on his desk. And he wanted to see her with her hair flowing long and loose, knowing the tresses would be covered or braided after they married. At first, she hadn’t wanted to do it—the time, the money, all the to-do with makeup and clothes. But he asked so little of her that she agreed without much of a fuss. All the proofs had turned out magnificently. The photographer had remarked that she could be a professional model and had wanted to put her portrait in the window. But Rina had asked him not to, clearly embarrassed by all the attention.

Benderhoff stared at the wallet-sized picture for a long time. Then he said, “Know what? If she was my wife, I’d do a favor for her, too.”