“No, it means phantom. That’s one of the things that’s come back to me. Just sort of popped into my head while I’ve been thinking about the case. I asked him once. He said it came from a poem. Something about a phantom sitting on a throne in the dark. I guess he figures that’s him.”

“Strange.”

“Yeah. Hey, Harry, you can turn off the monitor. So we don’t have to bother Danny.”

He had asked me to do the same thing on the first visit. I moved around his chair to a nearby bureau. On the top of it was a small plastic device with a small green light glowing on its face. It was an audio monitor manufactured for parents to listen in on their sleeping babies. It helped Cross call to his wife when he needed to change the channel or wanted anything else. I switched it off so we could speak privately and came back around to the front of the chair.

“Good,” Cross said. “Why don’t you close the door now.”

I did as instructed. I knew what this was leading to.

“Did you bring me something this time?” Cross said. “Like I asked?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

“Good. Let’s start with that. Go into the bathroom behind you and see if she left my bottle in there.”

In the bathroom the counter surrounding the sink was crowded with all manner of medicines and small medical equipment. Sitting on a soap dish was a plastic bottle with an open top. It looked like something normally found on a touring bike but a little different. The neck was wider and it was slightly curved. Probably to make the drinking angle a little more comfortable, I thought. I quickly took the flask out of my jacket and then poured a couple ounces of Bushmills into the bottle. When I took it out to the bedroom Cross’s eyes widened in horror.

“No, not that! That’s a piss bottle! It goes under the chair.”

“Ah, shit! Sorry.”

I turned around and went back to the bathroom, pouring the booze out into the sink just as Cross yelled, “No, don’t!”

I looked back out at him.

“I would’ve taken it.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got more.”

After the piss bottle was rinsed and returned to the soap dish I went back out to the bedroom.

“Law, there’s no drinking bottle in there. What do you want me to do?”

“Goddamn, she probably took it. She knows what I’m up to. You have the flask?”

“Yeah, right here.”

I tapped it from the outside of my sport coat.

“Bring it out. Let me have a taste.”

I pulled the flask out and opened it. I brought the mouth to his and let him take a swallow. He coughed loudly and some of it spilled down his cheek and neck.

“Ah, Jesus!” he gasped.

“What?”

“Jesus . . .”

“What? Law, you all right? I’ll get Danny.”

I made a move toward the door but he stopped me.