Hammer moved her feet again under the table. Niles held on, paws snugly around her ankles, claws tucked in so he didn’t run her hose.

“What about using fish to body-pack cocaine,” West said.

“Virginia, that’s brilliant,” Hammer said, shaking her feet again.

“Drugs could get in undetected from Maine, Miami, from almost anywhere,” West went on.

“I want narcotics on it right away,” Hammer said. “And Andy, call NIJ’s Crime Mapping Center first thing in the morning and see what they can tell us. We’ll hope the fish problem’s not pervasive, not an indication of a virus.”

“With an address like that,” Brazil was frank, “I’m worried about how many sites on the network might have been affected.”

“Tell NIJ our situation is urgent, that we’re locked out of COMSTAT until we can resolve this,” Hammer said. “I’ve really got to head on and let Popeye out. Virginia, please get your cat so I can move.”

“Niles, enough!”

Niles draped over Brazil’s shoe. Brazil leaned over and played Niles’s ribs like piano keys. Niles purred. Niles was very fond of Brazil and had nicknamed him Piano Man when all of them lived in Charlotte and Piano Man and Niles’s owner used to get along and play tennis and go shooting and watch movies and talk about Piano Man’s eventually leaving the Charlotte Observer and becoming a cop so he could write stories about crime that would change the way people thought.

Niles wanted his owner and Piano Man to get along again, even if it meant being thrown off the bed every night. Niles was irritated with his owner. She wasn’t being the least bit friendly to Piano Man and was annoyed that Niles was purring for him. Niles jumped in Piano Man’s lap.

“Sorry. Gotta go,” Piano Man said to Niles.

“Thanks for the beer,” Brazil politely said to West as he scooted back from the table. “Chief Hammer, I’ll get you safely to your car.”

West showed them out. She stood in front of the foyer table again, but not in time. Brazil saw the florist’s card with West’s name typed on it.

“Good night,” West said to them.

12

BRAZIL WAS JITTERY and angry as he trotted under streetlights along Mulberry, worrying that he would find his BMW gone or vandalized. He was tempted to turn around and show up at West’s house, demanding an explanation.

It was true that their relationship in Charlotte had been somewhat complicated by their differences. She was older and accomplished. She had power. Her personality was the opposite of his. But she had been his mentor when he worked the police beat for the paper and rode the streets at night as a volunteer cop. Those had been the best stories Brazil had ever written. They had won prizes and changed the way people thought. They had changed the way he thought, too.

He had decided to become a real cop, as his father had been, and West had given Brazil the courage. She had helped him and loved him even through fights that were violent storms. When they made up it was always unbelievable. Brazil could not think of her without reliving every taste and touch. He did not know why she had changed so abruptly, and when he had asked, she would not say. It was as if they had never been lovers or even close friends. He did not push because maybe his primal fear was true. He just wasn’t worth it. No one in his life had ever made him feel he was. His father had died when Brazil was a boy and Brazil’s mother did not love herself and wasn’t capable of loving anyone. For a while, West had filled a terrible space in Brazil’s life. He hated Jim. How dare Jim send her flowers.