He lurched to his feet and lunged at me, swinging a roundhouse at my head. I could see it coming from a long way off and ducked it easily. His momentum took him past me, and I thought he was going to fall flat on his face. But he surprised me by keeping his feet and taking another swing, a short one, this time with his left. I was a little late in jerking my head out of the way this time, and his fist glanced off my mouth. It barely hurt—he didn't put much behind his punch—but it was enough to mash the inside of my lip against my teeth. I tasted blood.

Rivlin stood with his hands on his knees, heaving, his two swings having taken a lot out of him. The urge to belt him one was strong. My fingers were balled into tight fists and itching for permission to plant themselves in his face. I managed to curb the craving. Hitting him was a bad idea. I might get a good night's sleep by doing it, but the downsides were considerable. First, punching a cop is one of the fastest ways to land in the deepest of trouble, even when the cop took the first swing. Second, I still wanted him to answer my question, and he wouldn't be able to do that if I knocked him unconscious. And third, our little party was no longer private. The other patrons had risen from their seats and were standing close by, ready to intervene if they were needed, but clearly hoping they would not be. The bartender was pointing at me. "We don't need no trouble here. Get out!"

"I need an answer," I told Rivlin. Which I did; otherwise I would not have pressed him. Truth was, I felt sorry for him. He was broken, and what I was doing was the equivalent of stepping on the pieces, crunching them into smaller fragments.

"Did you hear what I said?" the bartender shouted.

"I'll go in a minute," I told him. To Rivlin I said, "Well?"

Sweat had broken on the sergeant's brow. He wiped at it with a trembling hand. There was hatred in his eyes now, and in his open mouth I could see his clenched teeth.

"You're lucky I don't bust up your face right now," he said. "You think you're better than me, don't you? You think I'm just some drunk who can't work a case. Well, you're wrong. I did everything I should have on that case. Everything."