This was a wonderful man.

“Kiss me,” I told him.

He put down the paper. “That’s a nice invitation.” He leaned over, took my face in his hands, and brought my mouth to his—a slow and passionate and edible kiss.

“Now that was so good,” he told me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his lips to mine, my fingers massaging the back of his scalp as our tongues did a slow dance.

We became more and more amorous.

A few minutes later, we got up and headed for the bedroom.

I wiped foam from my lips with the back of my hand. The beer was ice cold, in contrast to the hot, smoky room. Seven in the evening and Bellini’s was thick with cigarette carcinogens. It was a step up from the usual cop’s bar, offering a pretty good selection for dinner—nothing fancy, but good and filling. Hayley and I had often gone there after shift when we still did Day watch. The place was small in size, dimly lit with background jazz: This time, it was Miles Davis doing the honors. Baseball was on the big screen— Dodgers versus the Diamondbacks in Arizona.

Brill found us a booth in the back. By choosing Bellini’s, making us visible, he was making some sort of a statement, though I wasn’t clear on the message. I did know it wasn’t pure altruism. Not with the way he was sipping his beer and eyeing me with those baby blues. I nursed my drink and I let him do it. He looked sharp— shadow pinstripe suit, white shirt, red-and-gold tie. Big gold ring on his left finger. Gold watch on his wrist.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine.” I added, “I had a big lunch.”

“With the boyfriend?”

“Exactly.” I could see the TV from where we were sitting. Shawn Green just got a stand-up double. Randy Johnson looked pissed.

“What’s his name?” Brill asked.

He knew the answer to the question. He had interviewed Koby for over an hour. “Yaakov Kutiel.”

“Seemed like a good guy,” Brill said. “Especially considering the circumstances. Does he have insurance for his car?”

“Yes, but you know how that works. Blue book on it isn’t going to be much.”

“Lucky for him he found a girl with a Lexus.”

“You’ve noticed.”

“Only the best for Daddy’s little princess.”

“Now you’re getting nasty.”

Brill smiled, signaled over the waitress. “Wanna clarify something for me?”

“If I can.”

“You have any idea where that phone call came from?”

“Not a clue.”

“For something to go through the grapevine that fast”—he gave me the “cop stare”—“it defies logic.”

I didn’t deny it. On the TV, the throw to the plate was too late. Green scored on McGriff’s perfect, long single. Fred McGriff had advanced to second. One out, Dodgers up by three at the top of the third. A close-up of a disgusted Johnson. The waitress came over. Brill ordered lamb chops with roasted potatoes; I settled for another beer.