The phone rang as Alicia was readying to call it a day. Raymond was gone already so she picked up herself.

“This is Detective Will Matthews. Is that you, Alicia?”

“Yes,” she said as brightly as she could. “How are you?”

Oh, hell. More bad news?

She’d had another call from the hospital attorney this morning, asking her if she’d had any second thoughts about her child molestation charge against Floyd Stevens. Now what?

“I’m fine,” he said. “Well, the reason I called is I may have some good news for you.”

“About Stevens?”

“The one and only.”

“He’s pleading guilty?”

“No, but almost as good. I’d like to tell you all about it over dinner.”

Alicia felt her hackles rise. “Will… if this involves the charges I brought against him, don’t you think—?”

“Nothing directly to do with your charges. If you insist, I’ll tell you now, but if you don’t have plans, I’d prefer to do it over an early dinner. I promise, you won’t be disappointed.”

Alicia hesitated. First lunch, then dinner, then… what?

I don’t have time for this.

But if he’d been checking into Stevens on his own time and had come up with something helpful, how could she refuse?

“Okay, then,” she said. “Dinner it is. When and where?” He asked if she liked Italian. When she told him she did, he gave her the address of a trattoria on Seventh Avenue about ten blocks up from the Center. He’d meet her there in half an hour.

Good news, he’d said. She hoped so. She could dearly use some.

5.

5.

“You must eat here often,” Alicia said as the two of them settled into a booth built for four.

Alicia had arrived early. Normally she would have walked. But despite Jack’s assurance that no one would bother her before Monday’s meeting with the lawyers, she’d taken a cab.

Will showed up a few minutes later. The maitre d’ had greeted him with a big smile, and three people from the bar had called hello.

He shrugged. “I guess if I hang out anyplace, it’s here. But we’re talking once or twice a week.”

Is this where you were last night? she wondered. If you’d been walking behind me instead of Jack, Thomas and his bully boys would be in jail right now and this whole mess would be settled.

“I thought cops hung out at cop bars.”

“They do. I spent a couple of years funneling money into Midtown. South’s favorite watering hole, but you know… you get tired of cop talk all the time. At least I do. Here I’m just Will Matthews, who happens to be a cop.”

A waiter stopped by with a basket of rolls and long anorectic Italian bread sticks. After checking with her, Will ordered a bottle of Chianti classico, then he leaned forward.