Ted raised his hands in surrender but said nothing. If this guy did come chasing after him, he was sure he’d feel the ground shaking.

The big man pushed his way to the aisle and stomped up the steps, followed by a chorus of boos. Ted stayed where he was.

-21-

-21-

Ted couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had been invaded. This man, or other persons unknown, had gone to a lot of trouble—possibly even followed him on previous occasions—to impress on him the idea that he should be frightened. Well, it had worked.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. The giant’s voice continued to whisper, like a cold wind through a cracked window. Ted’s brain, both exhausted and energized, would not stop. Old movies didn’t help. Ted needed the reassurance that there was some structure in the universe, some standard of continuity, something he could rely on. He needed a Law & Order all-night marathon.

“Objection. Leading the witness. You should have called that one, McCoy. You’re slipping,” he said, providing his own legal commentary.

It was coming up on one in the morning. He was to meet Lester at the courthouse in a few hours for the foreclosure auctions. Showing up red-eyed and dopey wasn’t going to cut it.

The jury came in with a guilty verdict. Surprise. McCoy won. McCoy may have been a semicloseted liberal, but the show’s true bias was always evident. The credits rolled at super speed, and the next episode began.

A pair of young lovers walked a lonely street in the West Village. They laughed together. Kissed. There was the sound of a moan from behind a dumpster. The girl screamed. Ted hit the mute button. He had watched the same episode the week before.

Ted reached for his cell phone. “Hey, Siri. Call Jill.”

The phone rang four times, and he was surprised when it was Jill who answered and not her voice mail.

“You’re up,” he said.

“You too.”

“What are you watching?”

“Something with Olivia de Havilland. I came in in the middle. It’s good. I think. You?”

“My hero.”

“Jack McCoy. You must have had a hard day.”

“Is Jackie back?” Part of him wanted to blurt out all of his growing suspicions. Hey, Jill, I think your wife is scamming some old lady out of her property. And helping those jerks build that ugly skyscraper in Corona. He filed the urge under Old Resentments with all the other poisons. They were more likely to kill him than to lead to any greater understanding of what was really going on.

“You know she doesn’t like that name.” Jill didn’t put any energy behind it. “She’s pissed at me.” If there was any part of her that felt sad or troubled, she didn’t let it show.