“Sure, you, me and the deep blue sea.” She sighed. “But the things that are wrong don’t line up with the case. For example, how come Martin Sklar was almost kidnapped last night, and yet there’s not a scratch on him, but one of his kidnappers is dead and the other has a machine helping him breathe right now?” Renfrew nodded to herself. “It’s funny too, since Mr. Sklar said his bodyguard shot both men. The bullets came from different guns, so that’s some fine shooting his bodyguard does. Wild West style, pistol in each hand, I guess. That, or maybe there was more than one bodyguard. Mr. Sklar doesn’t seem the type to do his own shooting, know what I mean?”

“Martin keeps his hands clean,” I said, staring at the East River as we crossed over to Queens. That was why he hired people like Gregory Robinson.

Renfrew hummed to herself for a moment, a song it took me a couple of bars to recognize. It was “Mack the Knife.” She stopped abruptly. “So there’s never, ever a trace of red,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Do you think Martin ambushed Tariq?”

“No one much cares what I think right now,” Renfrew answered. “No one cares that there was a call almost four minutes long that Mr. Lawrence made to Mr. Sklar yesterday afternoon. Mr. Sklar doesn’t recall it, you see. Maybe some flunky took the phone. He’s not sure. What Mr. Sklar is sure of is that Mr. Lawrence had made threats on behalf of the Muslim Brotherhood or ‘some terrorist organization or other.’ That’s a quote. Mr. Sklar’s bodyguard swears it’s the gospel truth. ’Course, he would also swear that when Mr. Sklar speaks, a choir of angels sings out.”

“Are you asking me what I think happened?”

“I’m not asking anything. I’m off the case.”

“You can’t be,” I said. “Claudia is missing. Martin is… I don’t know what, but he’s got a hand in all of this. You can’t leave the case.”

“I don’t get a vote on this, you know.”

“What about Bruxton? Is he off the case too?”

“Brux got suspended,” she answered.

“What? How?”

“Mr. Sklar generously offered to come into the station to answer some questions, and he brought his army of lawyers with him. Brux and I weren’t allowed to sit in, so I can’t tell you what was said, but Brux decided he was going to get some answers when Mr. Sklar was leaving. And somehow—no one knows how—Mr. Sklar bumped into a wall.”

“Martin bumped… into a wall?”

“Brux is a big guy. Overpowering personality and all. Probably made Mr. Sklar a little nervous.”

“Is Bruxton all right?”