“Good luck. If I can do more, call, okay?” said Maggie.

“Will do.” They hugged one more time. “See ya in the funny papers.”

Maggie laughed. She stood at the elevator for a long time before she made her way back to her office. Her expression was short of dreamy, almost the same as Lizzie’s expression when both of them had looked at the cherubs on the glossy prints. For the first time in her life, she gave some thought to her biological clock ticking away second by second. She rather thought Lizzie was probably thinking the same thing on her way home.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The office phone was ringing when Maggie slammed the door of her office. She felt like she was going to cry any minute. “Yes,” she barked into the receiver.

“That’s how you answer your phone? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Jack Emery barked in return.

Maggie sniffed. “What? Are you calling to pick my brain, or are you calling me to tell me something I don’t already know, which I find to be very unlikely? Why aren’t you in court?”

“I’m not in court, because crime has taken a holiday, and I already locked up all the bad guys. Actually, I was calling to ask if you wanted to go to lunch with me and Harry. I’m on my way to pick him up. He’s being a real pain in the ass with the construction guys working on his dojo. The foreman on the job pulled me to the side yesterday and asked me if there was any way for me to take him off their hands. Bring Ted and Espinosa. We’ll have a regular party, you know, one of those three-hour lunches we used to do. By the time I get him back to the dojo, they’ll be ready to quit for the day. Of course, Harry won’t see it that way and will probably kill one of us, but what the hell. Anything for my friend Harry.”

Maggie laughed, her sour, maudlin mood gone for the moment. Jack could always make her laugh. “Squire’s Pub, twelve thirty, work for you?”

“It does. It would be nice if the Post picked up the tab,” Jack said, then hung up when Maggie started to sputter.

Jack had to park more than a block away and hoof it back to Harry’s dojo. He had to wiggle his way between utility trucks, cable trucks, telephone trucks, plumbing vehicles, plus the cars and trucks of the workers. Harry’s Ducati was wedged in so tight in the back, he would have to physically pick it up and turn it around if he wanted to take it out. Aha! That was why old Harry had invited him over: he needed extra muscle to get his bike out to the street. Little did Harry know he was on his way anyway.