Marshall looked outside to the ambulance. Paulie was still in the back getting oxygen, but he was upright now, sitting on the edge of the stretcher. Marshall wasn’t sure how much the guy had overheard, but he was erring toward nothing. The man had come on too friendly for someone who sensed a life-and-death issue being outlined in his orbit. So it was tempting not to give up the names – D’Anton Lewis, Frank Cifaretti – and just look into it himself. It would be nice to find whoever killed Vialoux and drop them off maybe a four- or five-story fire escape. But Nevins was looking at him with such a steady, neutral stare, it was like he could see through Marshall’s face to that imagined narrative as it unfolded. In any case, reticence wouldn’t be any kind of service. The more people hunting, the better.

Marshall said, ‘He told me a guy called D’Anton Lewis got him involved with the betting operation, and that it was run by someone called Frank Cifaretti. The debt was with Cifaretti.’

That obviously warranted a notebook entry. Nevins wrote down the names. He said ‘Who else?’

‘That’s all he gave me. You look outside, there’s probably a napkin and a pen trapped under the table. He was in the process of writing down the details.’

Nevins watched him. ‘Keep his mouth free for drinking, huh?’

His pen hovered. The nib made its circular motion, but it did’t land. He closed the notebook, cupped one hand in the other and cracked his knuckles in clean and measured sequence, one-two-three-four as he looked out the window.

He said, ‘I’m retiring next week. Last shift’s Tuesday.’

Tuesday. The same day as Vialoux’s deadline. Marshall let that small parallel go unspoken.

Nevins said, ‘I did two years down in Baltimore – CID homicide. Worked ninety-seven murders total, lead and assist, not once did I work a dead police. Not even once. CID handles cop shootings, but I never caught one. Now I got a dead gold-shield, five days to go.’

He shook his head, and then his eyes came back, and Marshall saw the story wasn’t so much a digression as evidence: there was nothing else in the world that he took more seriously than what he was doing right now. He watched Nevins stand up, slide his chair back in.

‘Wait there a moment.’

Marshall said, ‘I know the family. If you’re doing next-of-kin, I’ll ride with you.’

Nevins thought about it. ‘Wait there.’

‘If you’re checking up on me, personnel’s slow this time of night. Talk to Lee Ashcroft at organized crime.’