“Oh, okay,” Sandler said. It was enough to know it wasn’t about him, and I was just as pleased not to have to explain it to him. “I don’t know about getting the police involved. I figure, if it comes out in the press, all at once like, then maybe I’ll be safe. There’ll be no point in them going after me then.”

“Mr. Sandler, what are you talking about?”

“You weren’t followed or anything, were you?”

“For Christ’s sake, no! You wanted a meeting. I’m here. And I’ve got a lot of other places to be today. What do you want to tell me?”

He sat still in the plush leather seat, pulling himself together, staring out at the lake but not really seeing it.

“The city health department,” he said. “It’s all…it’s all fucked up.”

“Tell me what you’re talking about.”

“Payoffs, threats, deals being made to look the other way. You got no idea.” He took a breath. “I want to state, for the record, here and now, that I have never taken a bribe. Not one penny. Nothing. No free tickets to baseball or hockey games, no free dinners, nothing. But I’m not going to let my family get hurt. No job is worth that. I don’t care if they put me in jail. I’m not going to let something happen to my family. I got two kids, Mr. Walker. My daughter is five, and my son is thirteen. I’m not going to let anyone hurt them, but I can’t go on like this, either.”

“Okay, just calm down. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Are you taping this? Is there a tape recorder in this car?” He looked around the interior. “Fuck, reporters at the Metropolitan must do okay. What’s a car like this cost? These are even more than Beemers, aren’t they?”

“It’s not my car,” I said. “And no, you’re not being taped. But if you’re about to tell me something important, I’d like to take some notes. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure, take some notes. That’s okay.”

I reached into the back for the overnight bag. I’d tossed a reporter’s notebook in the top before leaving. I grabbed it, folded back the cover, and pulled a fine-point from my jacket pocket.

“Shoot,” I said.