“I don’t know,” Decker said. “But she knows about your case. That might bias her against you.”

“It should have gone to trial,” Abel said.

“Myra dropped the charges,” Decker said. “She wasn’t about to accuse her own mother of assault. There was nothing left to try, Abe. The files got messed up after the primary field investigator died. Be grateful for what you have.”

Abel turned to face Decker. “What I should have had was a declaration of innocence. That’s not the same as having the charges dropped.”

“You’re not running for office, Abe. What difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference to your lady friend out there.”

“She’s a cop,” Decker said. “She’s suspicious of anyone who uses hookers.”

Silence.

Decker said, “Want to know the giveaway?”

“What?”

“The old lady’s airline ticket,” Decker said. “Myra kept saying Mama came in after she was attacked, but her mother’s ticket said she actually left for Detroit the night of the rape on a ten P.M. flight. She must have paid Myra a surprise visit in the wee hours of that fateful morn and didn’t like what she saw. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Abel shook his head. “Stupid bitch cuts up her own kid because she’s turning tricks. And I’m the one who gets screwed.” He hobbled over to his refrigerator and pulled out two ice-cold bottles of beer.

“At least you’re a free man,” Decker said.

“Yeah,” Abel said. He placed the beer on the corner kitchen table. “Yeah, I am. Thanks, Doc. Thanks a lot.”

“Don’t mention it.” Decker sat down and drank half a bottle. “Look…I keep thinking that one of us should have tried a little harder. That we let too much shit get in the way. What do you think?”

“I think, Doc, that we’re like an old love affair.” Abel sat down at the table. “Some good memories and a lot of bad ones. But with it all, there’s still a little bit of macho male-pair bonding-type love, know what I’m saying?”

“Yep.”

“So let’s leave it at that,” Abel said. “Your wife-to-be wrote me a gracious letter, returned my Nam picture. But she wrote about you and me in past tense—what kind of friends we were.” Abel let out a small laugh. “Subtle but effective. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised she wrote to me at all.”

“Rina’s a very special lady.”

“That’s for sure.”

There was more awkward silence.

Decker said, “You call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Always.” Abel took his beer and returned to the window. They drank for several minutes, Decker at the table, Abel staring out the window. Decker wondered how many hours Abel spent looking at life passing him by.