Levine turned on the gas under the kettle. “They know the case against you won’t stick. ‘By all accounts, Detective Devlin is not a nice man.’ The mayor of the city of New York actually said that to justify what he’s doing to you. You’re all over the television news—”

Devlin waved the newspaper at him. “It’s my fifteen minutes.”

“They’ve gone public not just because you’re proving to be embarrassingly hard to find. They don’t want the press digging into Brennan’s death. Or life. Jack Brennan is only an embarrassment to them now. So they would have us believe.”

“Why did you want to see me?”

Levine had measured out the instant coffee and now he was watching the kettle. “Let me do this first, then I can sit down.” The kettle started rumbling. “You shouldn’t boil the water when you make coffee. That’s too hot.” Delicately he stirred the contents of the cups, then brought them to the table. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Milk. Please.”

He poured the milk for Devlin. “Is that enough? Stir it.”

“It’s fine.”

Levine put the container on the table and slid into the chair opposite Devlin. “We talked to Brennan’s campaign manager, Marlene Santana. The night of May fifth, Brennan’s campaign headquarters was broken into, the files rifled, some of them stolen. Brennan had a lot of confidential material in one cabinet that only Santana and a few others had access to. That included the antimob material he was going to use in the fall, the kind of legislation he was going to propose. Who knows? Maybe he only wanted to have something on paper in case somebody asked. Who knows what these bastard politicians really mean anymore? Anyway, that file was taken, and so was yours.”

“Mine? Why did he have a file on me?”

Levine raised a hand to quiet him as his attention was drawn to the door.

“It’s time for Mom’s toddy,” Norma Levine said. “She just remembered that she didn’t like the clothes on this show. Go ahead, I won’t disturb you. Mr. Devlin, we’re pushing cheesecake tonight.”

“No, thanks. Your husband has already asked me.”

“That I know. If we listened to him, we’d all weigh four hundred pounds.”

“I thought you weren’t going to disturb us,” Levine said.

“I’m not disturbing you. Do you look disturbed?” She had already filled a tall glass with ice. Now she poured a healthy shot of Scotch over the cubes. “It helps Mom sleep, Mr. Devlin,” she said as she took the milk from her husband. “She’s been sleeping alone for thirty-seven years, so she’s entitled.”

“I think so.”

“We have harmony. She wishes you well. So do I. Harry tells me your life is nice now.”

“It was.”

“Everything works out for the best. You’ll see.”

“Thank you.”