“Threats go with both our jobs.” Banks chuckled.

“They do. Maybe I’m paranoid, but we had an assistant DA killed here a few years ago...”

“I remember that case very well,” Banks said. “It hinged on, of all things, an expensive watch with musical chimes and a couture paisley shirt. The killer died, but his boss went to prison.”

“He’ll never get out, if I have any say in it,” the other man replied. “The assistant DA left a wife and young children. And a politician ordered the hit to save himself from prosecution. See why I’m paranoid?”

“I do. Have you checked with Hollister, or Marquez, over at SAPD?” he asked. “There’s always somebody over there looking for part-time work.”

“I hadn’t thought about that! Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. And I’ll vote for you,” he added, chuckling.

“I appreciate it!”

Banks hung up the phone.

“I hope you’re not squeamish,” Clancey said from the doorway.

He glanced at her. “Why not?”

“Because the last man who volunteered Cal to look for after-hours employees for him wishes he’d never opened his mouth.”

He chuckled. “I’m not afraid of Hollister.”

“Brave man,” she said under her breath.

“And I know what he used to do for a living, too,” he added.

She shook her head and went back into her office.

“Banks’s sister won’t give me a passkey to his apartment,” Cal Hollister said when she answered her cell phone that night.

“She won’t?” she asked. “Why do you want one?”

“I’m going to short-sheet his bed and put salt in his sugar shaker.”

“Not nice!” she chided. “And you a captain in the police department, too!”

“I told Darrell—and he spelled his first name for me, to make sure I knew that it had two r’s and two l’s—that if he wanted after-hours protection, he could come poll my officers himself.”

“I’ll bet that wasn’t all you told him,” she mused.

“There were a few invectives and some unprintable words, as well,” he said with a chuckle. “I did tell him I’d put a note on the bulletin board. Hence the careful spelling of his first name that he gave me.”

She laughed.

“How are you and Tad?”

“Doing well.”

“Your voice sounds raspy. Are you using the preventative?” he asked.

“Don’t start,” she chided. “I just sound hoarse. My lungs are clear. And yes, I’m using it.”

“I miss you,” he sighed. “Your replacement just smiles and does her job. She never calls me names or tries to set me up on dates with streetwalkers when I ask her to work overtime.”

She laughed. “I miss you, too,” she said. “But I can walk to and from work, and you’re too far away.”

“I could drive you both.”

“You’re sweet, but I like being independent.”

“You can be too independent,” he said quietly.