Slowly, slowly, he got up. “Typical heavy-handed cop. What is it, Officer? Are you jealous because most women still prefer me to big, strong you?”

I ignored him and checked my watch. I had only an hour before Sarah Sanders was coming in to make a statement. I set my angry eyes on him and waited. He tried out a glare, but it was more like a sneer. In the end, he picked up the phone and punched in some numbers. He turned his back to me and spoke quietly. After he hung up the receiver, he told me that Klinghoffner would be down in five minutes.

I told him thank you.

His eyes went from my face to the mess on the floor. I bent down to pick up the papers.

“Don’t touch anything!” he blurted out. “I … Let me handle it. Please.”

I stood up. “Sorry.”

He squatted down, scanned the mess, then began by picking up a pile of papers. “You’re not forgiven.”

I surveyed the room. I found what I was looking for—the requisite coffeemaker. “Can I make it up by fetching you a cup of home brew?”

He was still sitting on his haunches. “My mug is the blue one. One packet of creamer, one packet sugar.”

I went over to the stand and filled his order with the efficiency of the neighborhood Star$s. “Mind if I help myself?”

“That’s why the Styrofoam cups are there.”

I poured myself a half cup, then placed his mug on his desk.

Buck said, “You were there when it happened?”

“Yes.”

He turned some pages over in his hands, then placed them down on the floor. He began to collate the piles. “It must have been awful.”

“Yes.”

“What exactly happened?”

“Some other time, Buck.”

“Did you at least find the idiot?”

“It’s coming,” I fibbed.

“That means no.”

“No, it means it’s coming.”

He huffed disdain.

“It’s good to see you obnoxious again. I was getting worried.”

He started to talk but changed his mind. Instead, he stood up and shuffled the pages.

“Are your papers in order?” I asked him.

“For the most part, yes.”

“Want me to mess them up again?”

“I want you to go away. But since that’s not going to happen, at least don’t talk.” He sat back down at his desk, straightened a pile of papers, then sipped coffee.

“Did you know the girl, Buck?”

“I know everyone here.” He looked up at me. “Are you going to ask me more questions? Because if it’s yes, I won’t even start to concentrate.”

“Know anyone who’d want to hurt her?”

“Of course not. That would imply that someone cares enough about them to kill them.” He bit his lip. “These are the discards of humanity. If it weren’t for Mr. Klinghoffner’s dedication, the city would have closed us down many moons ago.”

“Her brother said that someone from the center had called her, offering to take her back to Fordham.”

“Who?”