Liz Becker—Liz Becker Weinstein—lived only a couple of blocks from Devlin’s apartment, at Fiftieth Avenue at Forty-fourth Street, one of the last spots in Sunnyside where mature trees stood at the curbside; Saint Theresa’s R.C. Church across the street probably had something to do with that. It was possible that Liz could be awake at this hour. From behind the wheel of his car, it took him a moment to find her window, and to see that she was still up.

And then, as he watched, the light went out. He hadn’t forgotten that she wanted him to call her from a safe telephone. Eileen’s wasn’t; he had learned that today. Liz was on her way to bed, if his memory of her nightly routine had any validity. He’d have to go to a bar to call her, and by then she might be asleep. He didn’t want trouble. Even in this situation, she might slam the telephone down. No matter what, he was going to have to wait another day to find out what she wanted to tell him. Both Joe and Jack Brennan had done tours in the Queens County District Attorney’s office, but they had been gone for years before Liz’s arrival. So what did she know? Why had she gone out of her way to slip a note under his door? She did know one thing: that people really were listening to him. That was enough. Oh, yes.

He double-parked the car, locked it, and entered the building. The vestibule smelled of urine and the brass cover of the intercom was torn loose on the right side. Half the nameplates were missing. As a kid Devlin had gone from one building like this to another, in costume, on Thanksgiving morning, begging for pennies. Memory: his index finger reached out toward the bell labeled WEINSTEIN. He had not been here in more than five years, and somehow he remembered. He pressed a second time.

“Who is it?”

“Frank Devlin, Liz.”

She hesitated. “What college did you go to?”

“CCNY, for one year.”

He heard the buzzer that signaled the unlocking of the inner door.

She didn’t unlock the door until she’d eyed him carefully through the peephole. “At this hour, I don’t know whether I’m glad you got my message or not, Frank.” Her eyes went up and down. “You look well.”