I never relaxed, but I was especially tense when I got to the block where I’d drawn the gun once before. I couldn’t help looking back, expecting to see a car careening toward me. I spun around involuntarily once at the sound of brakes screeching, then realized the sound was a good two blocks away.

Nerves.

I passed the spot where I’d dropped to the pavement and rolled. I checked the place where the bottle had broken. There was still some broken glass there, though I couldn’t be sure it was the same broken glass. A lot of bottles get broken every day.

I kept walking all the way to Armstrong’s. When I got there I went in and ordered a piece of pecan pie and a cup of coffee. I kept my right hand in my pocket while my eyes scanned the room, checking everybody out. After I was done with the pie I put my hand back in my pocket and drank my coffee left-handed.

After awhile I ordered more coffee.

The telephone rang. Trina answered it, walked over to the bar. There was a heavyset fellow there with dark blonde hair. She said something to him and he went to the phone. He talked for a few minutes, looked around the room, came over to my table. Both of his hands were where I could see them.

He said, “Scudder? My name’s George Lightner, I don’t think we met.” He pulled a chair out and sat in it. “That was Joe just now,” he said. “There’s no activity out there, nothing at all. They’re laying doggo in the Mercury plus he’s got two sharpshooters in second-floor windows across the street.”

“Good.”

“I’m in here, and there’s the two fellows at the front table. I figured you made us when you walked in.”

“I made them,” I said. “I figured you were either a cop or the killer.”

“Jesus, what a thought. This is a nice place. You more or less hang out here, huh?”

“Not as much as I used to.”

“It’s pleasant here. I’d like to come back sometime when I can drink something instead of coffee. They’re selling a lot of coffee tonight, what with you and me and the two guys down front.”

“It’s pretty good coffee.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad. Better than the shit in the station house.” He lit a cigarette with a Zippo lighter. “Joe said there’s no activity elsewhere either. There’s two men staked out downtown with your girlfriend. There’s a couple others with the three hookers on the East Side.” He grinned. “That’s the detail I shoulda drawn. Can’t win ’em all, huh?”

“I guess not.”