Once upon a time, Pete and I had lived together in these rooms, reading, talking, listening to music, making love. We'd nurtured Katy from infant to toddler to adolescent, redecorating her room and adjusting our lives with each passage. I'd watch the honeysuckle come and go through the window over the kitchen sink, welcoming every season.

Those had been fairy-tale days, a time when the American dream seemed real and attainable.

Pete reappeared, transformed from attorney-chic to yuppie-casual. The jacket and vest were gone, the tie loosened, the shirtsleeves roled to below the elbows. He looked good.

'Where's Bird?' I asked.

'He's been keeping to the upper decks since Boyd checked in.'

He handed me a mug with Uz to mums atkal jaiedzer! scroled around the glass. 'To that we must drink again!' in Latvian.

'Boyd's the dog?'

A nod.

'Yours?'

'Interesting point. Have a seat and I'l share with you the saga of Boyd.'

Pete got pretzels from the kitchen and joined me on the couch.

'Boyd belongs to one Harvey Alexander Dineen, a gentleman recently in need of pro bono defense. Completely surprised by his arrest, and lacking family, Harvey requested that I look after his dog until the misunderstanding with the state was cleared up.'

'And you agreed?'

'I appreciated his confidence in me.'

Pete licked salt from a pretzel, bit off the large loop, and washed it down with beer.

'And?'

'Boyd's on his own for a minimum of ten and a maximum of twenty. I figured he'd get hungry.'

'What is he?'

'He thinks of himself as an entrepreneur. The judge caled him a con man and career criminal.'

'I meant the dog.'

'Boyd's a chow. Or at least most of him is. We'd need DNA testing to clarify the rest.'

He ate the other half of the pretzel.

'Been out with any good corpses lately?'

'Very funny.' My face must have suggested that it was not.

'Sorry. Must be grim up there.'

'We're getting through it.'

We made smal talk for a while, then Pete invited me for dinner. Our usual routine. He asked, I refused. Today I thought of Larke's alegations, Anne and Ted's London adventure, and my empty condo.

'What are you serving?'

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

'Linguini con sauce vongole.'

A Pete specialty. Canned clams on overcooked pasta.

'Why don't I pick up steaks while you deal with the plumber. When the pipes are flowing, we can gril the meat.'

'It's an upstairs toilet.'

'Whatever.'

'It wil be good for Bird to see that we're friends. I think he stil blames himself.'

Pure Pete.

===OO=OOO=OO===

Boyd joined us at dinner, sitting beside the table, eyes glued to the New York strips, now and then pawing a knee to remind us of his presence.