Herb turned his attention to a child standing in front of them on the bottom step of the fountain. The boy was about six years old, with messy blond hair.

“How may I help you, young man?” Herb asked in a booming voice. He was good with kids.

“Is that real?” the boy asked, gesturing at the three-dimensional painting of Hua Shan mountain in the plaza.

“Does it look real?” Herb asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Then I guess it is.”

The boy thought about this. He looked over his shoulder at the painting. “I don’t think it’s real. I think it’s fake.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Herb said. “You have to walk the plank, young man.”

The boy folded his arms and marched back to the edge of the painting using big steps, but he kept eyeing Herb behind him, as if to figure out whether he was kidding. He put a foot out and drew it back, and then, with a last glance at Herb, he jumped into the center of the painting. When his feet landed on cement, he looked back with a huge grin. Herb winked at him.

“So why are you asking about this, Frost?” Herb went on. “You’re not thinking of going to Dr. Stein, are you? Because of Katie?”

“No.”

“Then why? Did something happen?”

“Two of Dr. Stein’s patients killed themselves in odd circumstances.”

Herb’s face darkened. “The girl on the bridge?”

Frost nodded. He found himself whistling a song under his breath. “She was one.”

“Are you trying to hold Dr. Stein criminally responsible?” Herb asked. “I wish you luck, but that’s a stretch. I can’t see the DA taking that case.”

“I just want to find out what really happened.”

“Well, I have to confess, I’m biased about Dr. Stein, and not in a good way.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Do you remember last summer? The SF State student who was murdered in her apartment near Balboa Park? Her name was Merrilyn Somers. She was stabbed seven times.”

Frost’s brow wrinkled. “I remember, but Jess Salceda led that case, not me.”

“How about the name Darren Newman?” Herb asked.

“Newman was a suspect in the murder, but he was never charged. Jess got a DNA match on someone else in the building, and the guy pled out. He claimed to have been so drunk he didn’t remember anything that happened that night.”

Herb nodded. Shack nudged the old man’s hand impatiently, and when Herb didn’t respond by petting him, the cat got up and relocated to Frost’s shoulder. He lifted his face to smell a waft of sea air.

“You know I’m on the board for a women’s antiviolence coalition, right?” Herb asked.

“Sure.”