“You’re making that up.” Dornick broke the silence. “There’s no evidence, no nothing, except a conviction in a court of law of one Anaconda scumbag who was guilty of murder three times over in other cases where we couldn’t make it stick. He was the Hammer’s go-to boy. And the Hammer, he was too slick for us. But we nailed that bastard for the Newsome murder.”

Bobby looked at Finchley, who opened the bulky folder in front of him. “Officer Warshawski filed a protest after your interrogation, Mr. Dornick. Warshawski put a written statement in the case file saying he had witnessed the suspect being subjected to extreme interrogation measures and that he believed the conviction was tainted.”

“And Tony was sent to Lawndale and Larry got a promotion,” I said softly. “And Peter got a big job with Ashland Meats. And then, a month before the big snow, Larry Alito brought the baseball over to our house. I don’t understand why Alito didn’t hang on to it himself, but he gave it to Tony. He said Tony should keep it because he, Larry, had kept Peter out of prison.”

There was another silence around the table, until Bobby asked, “Where’s the baseball, Vicki?”

“In the trunk of my car. I think. Unless George here broke in and swiped it.”

Dornick made a gesture, a man who can’t believe he let the big one get away, but he didn’t say anything.

“But what happened to Lamont?” I asked. “Lamont Gadsden? He had the pictures and he disappeared.”

“Merton must’ve killed him,” Dornick said. “Another useless gangbanger whose ma cries that her little boy never did anything wrong in his life. Oh no, it was his auntie, you say?”

“Lamont Gadsden came into the Racine Avenue station early in the morning of January twenty-sixth,” Detective Finchley read from the bulky file in front of him. “The desk sergeant logged him in, with a note that he had evidence in the Newsome case. The sergeant paged detectives Dornick and Alito, who took him away with them. There is no record of him leaving the station.”

The night wore on from there endlessly. Peter and Harvey and George seemed to be fighting over who had done what, and I knew, in a detached way, that that was a good thing because one of them would be forced to admit something pretty soon. I wondered what little world Elton was inhabiting right now and if it was possible to join him there rather than continue at the table with these men.

Around two in the morning, Freeman said he didn’t think I could be of any further assistance. He assumed Bobby was dropping the notion that I had anything to do with Larry Alito’s death.