“They’re not. If you give me five minutes, I’ll show you why.”

Duran paused before answering. Despite his reservations, he was intrigued. “What have you got?”

“Meet with me.”

“I’m a busy guy.” Now he sounded bored. Was he losing interest or playing hard to get?

Ted laid down his sole trump card. “I have a video. All the players are in it. You’ll see. Come to the place we first met. See what I’ve got, and you decide if it’s worth anything.”

“I’ve been instructed to focus my efforts elsewhere.”

Ted held back his frustration and forged ahead. Formality would have to pass for forbearance. “I have information relevant to your ongoing investigation into the death of Richard Rubiano.”

“We no longer believe the cases are related.”

Ted couldn’t get a read on Duran. Was this truth or was this more obstruction coming down the chain of command? “Give me five minutes, and I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“Can you afford to ignore me?”

“You are becoming a pain in the ass. My partner isn’t going to buy into this; I’ll tell you that.”

“Don’t bring him,” Ted shot back. “I can be there in twenty minutes. In half an hour, you’re rid of me, or you’re a hero. Come on, take a chance.”

Nurses and firemen were two deep at the bar at Gallagher’s, spilling into all the booths on that side of the room. Ted waggled two fingers at Lili, and she passed him a pair of Brooklyn IPAs while simultaneously pouring shots of Jameson for a cluster of off-duty firemen. Ted retreated to his usual booth, only to find it occupied by four nurses drinking martinis. They were engaged in a heated debate on the relative merits of Girls versus Broad City. Seeing Ted hovering near the table, one of the women tried, flirtatiously, to elicit his opinion but lost interest when he admitted that he had never seen either show. Ted moved on.

An apparently empty booth nearer the door beckoned. Ted plunked himself down, glad for the packed house and the noise. Despite the attack at the courthouse, he felt safer in a crowd. And the alcohol-induced hilarity would drown out his conversation with the detective.

But the moment he settled in, resident barfly Paulie McGirk sat up, rising like a drunken Lazarus from the bench on the other side of the booth. He grinned sleepily at Ted.

“’S that beer for me?”

“No,” Ted said. There wasn’t another free booth available, or he would have moved.

“I thought you’d say that,” Paulie whined.

“Tell you what,” Ted offered. “I’ll buy you a beer if you let me have this booth.”

Paulie did not have to weigh the decision for very long. “That’s a good deal,” he said.