Walter shrugged, as if this were all part of a meaningless conversation he was having with strangers at a bus stop.

I said, “Do you know many organized-crime figures, Walter?”

Another shrug. A deep puff. “A few. I’ve been in the industry for quite a long while. It has always been profitable.”

“Do you know Charlie DeLuca?”

“Not personally. I know who he is, of course.”

Rollie said, “We’re told that DeLuca’s name has come up a few times in the songs you been singing.”

Shrug. A whisper. “You hear things.”

Rollie crossed his arms and sat back in the chair. “Your kind of business, they’ve got to be dirty things.”

Walter made the nice smile again. “One man’s garbage, Roland.”

Sid Volpe leaned across the table and hit Walter Lee Balcom in the face with the back of his left hand. Walter went backward out of the chair and landed on the floor. The broken Lark landed on the table next to the pack, its coal still red and smoking. Walter Lee slowly got up, righted his chair, and sat again. There was a trickle of blood from his right nostril.

Volpe said, “It’s Mister George, Walter.”

Walter made an embarrassed smile. “Yes, of course. My apologies.” Walter took a fresh Lark out of the pack and lit it with what was left of the coal. Volpe took a white handkerchief out of his pants and tossed it onto the table next to Walter. “Get your nose.”

Walter dabbed at his nose.

Roland watched without moving, then said, “Thanks, Sid. I think we can take it from here.”

Volpe said, “Whatever you want,” then got up and left.

When he was gone, Rollie turned off the Nagra. “You want some ice for that, Walter?”

“No. Thank you.”

Rollie said, “When I was starting out, we used to call these rooms the garden rooms. Can you guess why?”

Walter shook his head the slightest bit, made the gentle smile.

“We called’m the garden rooms because this is where we took out the hoses. You see?”

“Ah.” The smile.

“I didn’t like it then, and I don’t like it now, but I don’t like you, either. I just can’t abide beating on a man when he can’t fight back. Even a piece of trash like you.”

“Ah.”

“Just so we understand each other.”

Walter nodded and took more of the Lark. Rollie crossed his arms and settled back.

I said, “I’m looking for a handle on Charlie DeLuca, Walter. Do you have any ideas?”

“As I said, I don’t know him.”

“But you hear things.”

“Yes. But none of it has been of particular interest to my friends with the Justice Department.”