“And this never came to light when you guys were looking for that murderous fuck?”

“No, Georgie. Burns isn’t officially a suspect on the other one. His name just came up, that’s all.”

“I see,” Georgie repeated. “Actually, I don’t.” He rolled a wrist, and muscles bulged in his forearm. “What, things are so relaxed around the corner that they’ve got you chasing ghosts?”

“Sorry to bring up old crap, Georgie.”

“Whatever, Milo, we all got our jobs. Back then I was a kid, first-year college, Cal State Northridge, I was going to become a lawyer. Instead, I got this.” Pudgy hands spread.

Milo said, “I just wanted to verify that you guys never caught any wind of Burns.”

Nemerov’s eyes were ash-colored slits. “You don’t think I’d tell you if we did?”

“I’m sure you would, but—”

“We go by the law, Milo. Making our living depends on it.”

“I know you do, Georgie. Sorry—”

Georgie picked up his sandwich. “So who else did Burns off?”

Milo shook his head. “Too early to let that out. When you guys were looking for him did you uncover any known associates?”

“Nah,” said Nemerov. “Guy was a fucking loner. A dope-head and a bum and a scumbag. Today, those Legal Aid assholes would call him a poor, poor pitiful homeless citizen and try to get you and me to pay his rent.” His mouth twisted. “A bum. My dad always treated him with respect and that’s how the fuck repaid him.”

“It stinks,” said Milo.

“It stinks bad. Even after all this time.”

“Your dad was a good guy, Georgie.”

Nemerov’s gray slits aimed at me. “My dad could read people like a book, Doctor. Better than a shrink.”

I nodded, thinking: Boris Nemerov had misread Willie Burns in the worst possible way.

Georgie rested one beefy arm on the countertop and favored me with a warm gust of garlic and brine and mustard.

“He could read ’em, my dad could, but he was too damn good, too damn soft. My mom tortured herself for not stopping him from going to meet the fuck that night. I told her she couldn’ta done nothing, Dad got an idea in his head, you couldn’t stop him. That’s what kept him alive with the Communists. Heart of gold, head like a rock. Burns, the fuck, was a loser and a liar but he’d always made his court dates before so why wouldn’t my dad see the best in him?”

“Absolutely,” said Milo.

“Ah,” said Nemerov.