The old man drew himself up as straight as his aged spine would allow and glared at Liam. “Good luck proving that, Sergeant. I didn’t see a goddamn thing and you can’t prove I did. I’m the only witness left alive.”

Liam looked at him for a long moment. “I’ll run it by the judge,” he said, and then he said, “Oh hell. Go home, old man. I know where you live.”

Jefferson had one foot over the threshold when Liam said, “Tom.”

The old man looked over his shoulder.

“Why did you tell me? You didn’t have to.”

Blue Jay Jefferson tugged fiercely at the bill of his cap, pulling it even tighter to his head and causing his remaining hairs to make him look even more like the Scarecrow after the Wizard stuffed his head with brains. “I told you,” he said. “I didn’t know about the kids.”

“How do you feel about all this?” Wy said that evening. They were curled up on the couch, watching the mountains turn an even darker blue and the Bay itself fade to black.

“Kind of pissed off, you want to know the truth,” Liam said. “Two murders, one attempt, and the perp dies on me before I get to charge him.”

“Anticlimactic,” she said.

“Kinda.”

“But nobody shot at you,” she said.

“And I didn’t have to jump out of any airplanes.”

“Or jump out of any boats.”

“Or fall down any glaciers. I never even took my sidearm out of the glove compartment. Am I still in Alaska or what?”

“And you didn’t mess up another uniform.”

“There is that.”

She raised her head to look at him. “Are you ever going to put one on again?”

Twenty-One

Sunday, September 15

THEY WERE SUMMONED TO TEA WITH Sybilla the following Sunday in her room at Sunset Heights. Having been given a heads up by Liz, Wy was wearing the only dress she owned, a sunny yellow sleeveless cotton sheath with a scoop neck. She’d bought it to wear at her college graduation, mostly to make her parents happy, and worn it a second time at her wedding. It was a little wrinkled because upon seeing her in it Liam had immediately tried to get her out of it again.

Liam, because what the hell and anyway he no longer owned a suit, came in full regalia, light blue shirt over dark blue pants with the gold stripe down the legs, dark blue tie, and the original babe magnet, his Smokey hat to top off the ensemble. He left the utility belt at home and the sidearm in the glove compartment.

“You’re strutting,” Wy said when he came out of the bedroom.

“Nonsense,” he said, and squared away his tie.

Sybilla’s was a surprisingly pleasant room, spacious with a large window that actually opened. It was stuffed with old-fashioned furniture and knickknacks. The walls were covered with photographs, including several studio portraits of Sybilla in her various primes.