Precipitation had begun to moisten his nose, dotting the hard ground with distinct wet circles. He put some speed on and made it to the station house before the sky decided to open up. It wasn’t warm inside, but the temperature was livable. Better still, it was dry. He went through the usual channels to get to Merrin, but because the town was so small, the red tape didn’t take very long. To his surprise, Merrin was in. To his greater surprise, the chief agreed to see him— a promising start considering that Decker had acted like a fool the last time the two had met up.

As he waited, Decker worked on his excuses, playing with the fine points and the details of what he should say and how he should act. When the big man appeared—bulging stomach leading the way— Decker had not only perfected his defense but had also attained, in his mind, the ideal humble look. A glance at the face, then the eyes— an expression that didn’t confront, yet held some dignity. He held out his hand as a peace offering. The big man took it, pumped it, then nodded for him to follow. The chief went over to the elevator and pushed the up button. Decker remembered that the office was on the third floor.

Merrin was dressed conservatively—blue suit, white shirt, blue-and-brown-striped tie. His platinum hair was slicked back off his forehead, his ruddy face had that wet look of the recently shaved. Underneath Merrin’s belly, Decker could make out the chief’s gun harness—a waist holster.

They strolled through the hallways silently, Merrin waving to his officers and detectives as he passed them. His secretary was on the phone, but he nodded to her as he took Decker into his office, closing the door behind. Because of the expanse of picture windows, the room was chilly, actually drafty in spots. Only half of the glass panes had been double hung. But the nip in the air was offset by the perfume of brewing coffee, sending up an aromatic steam that made Decker’s mouth water. To distract himself, he looked outward, at the rain pelting the hard brown earth of the pathways, drenching the loose soil of the flower beds. The surface of the lake had become pitted silver. The corner suite afforded Merrin a good view of the park. It was not only pretty, but also allowed the chief to take in most of the area in a single glance.

“Coffee?” Merrin asked.

“If you’re taking, so will I.”

“Black, white, sugar?”

“Black.”

He pressed the intercom on his desk and requested two black coffees. A moment later, his secretary came into his office, went over to the gurgling coffeemaker, and poured two cups for the chief—one in his ceramic mug, the second in a paper cup. Why the chief couldn’t go over and pour his own coffee was left to speculation.

“Have a seat,” Merrin told him.

“Thank you, sir.” He waited for Merrin to sit, then followed suit. “I appreciate your seeing me.”