Coletti nodded. “Did you get a look at the guy?”

“Yeah. I peeked out from under my blanket and saw him from the side. He was dressed in a black jacket, with a hat. His face was pale and his hair was blond. I couldn’t see more than that, and to tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I’ve seen death one time too many.”

It was nearly seven o’clock and Mary Smithson was sitting in a cubicle in homicide, fuming about the commissioner’s veiled accusations and gathering her belongings as the detectives in the room watched her warily.

When she placed the last of her things in her purse and slammed the metal drawer, a few of them muttered quiet goodbyes. She ignored most of them and stormed out.

As she left the office and walked the curved hall leading to the building’s entrance, she wondered if Mike Coletti was as special as Lynch had made him out to be.

She was lost in those thoughts when a man who was equally preoccupied walked into the building and nearly ran into her.

“Hey watch it!” she said before she looked up and realized who it was.

“Mary?” said a confused Coletti. “Where are you going?”

She sighed heavily. “We solved the case I was working on, so I’m heading back upstate.”

“I know I was a lousy date,” he said, his tone apologetic. “But you weren’t even gonna say good-bye?”

“I was gonna call you later.”

“What about the shooting investigation? Is that over, too?”

“Commissioner Lynch said it was pretty much open and shut,” she said, her jaw tightening. “He, um, advised me that I should go back to the office. He thought you’d be better off if I wasn’t around.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Coletti said, playfully leering at her while rubbing his gut. “He probably thought you were after my luscious body.”

Smithson tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn’t and burst out laughing. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I know, and I’m trying to get help,” he said, his silly grin fading. “But I’m sane enough to admit that you were right about the suspect at the hospital. He’s not the man I’m looking for, but he’s seen the killer.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just left three other men who corroborated his story. They saw the guy under an overpass right off the expressway. They said he was thin, wearing a black jacket, and had pale skin and light-colored hair. It was just like I remembered.”

“You mean you’ve seen the killer, too?” Smithson asked. “You never told me that.”

Coletti hesitated. “That’s because I didn’t…. Well, not face-to-face…. Look, it’s complicated, but if you stick around I could explain it over dinner.”