Downstairs, Jack unlocked his bike and rolled it out of the receiving dock. After getting it down to the pavement, he got on and cycled out onto First Avenue.

As usual, the ride home was an opportunity for Jack to break away literally and figuratively. Rush-hour traffic had already abated, and he flew. The sun had set an hour or so earlier and the sky was a silvery blue-violet that deepened to indigo with every passing moment. In the middle of the darkened park he even got to see stars twinkling in the firmament.

Entering his own street, Jack headed directly for the chain-link fence separating the basketball court from the sidewalk. As he pulled to a stop, he saw what he wanted to see: a game in progress. As the men swept down the court in his direction, he noticed that Warren and Flash were already playing, although on opposing teams.

With a sense of urgency, Jack carried his bike up to his apartment and tore off his clothes. Redressed in his basketball gear, he thundered down the stairs and out across the street. When he arrived at the game’s sidelines, he was slightly out of breath.

Unfortunately, another game had started in the time Jack had taken to get on his togs, which meant he’d have to wait one or maybe two games to get into the friendly fray. As usual, Warren’s team had won-so he was still on the court. Flash, on the other hand, was standing in the midst of those waiting to play. Jack walked over to him.

“Hey, man, how’s it going?” Flash said when he caught sight of Jack. It was the typical B-ball-court, offhand manner of greeting, even though they’d spent a good part of the afternoon together.

“It’s going fine,” Jack said. “You doing okay?”

“So far,” Flash said. He didn’t look at Jack but rather kept his eyes glued to the game in progress. “I’d be better if we’d won the last game.”

“Listen,” Jack said. “I gave the laboratory all the samples I took from your sister today. So they’re in the works. I want to make sure you’re going to be patient and not do anything rash.”

“I’m cool,” Flash said.

“Glad to hear it,” Jack said. He was reluctant to tell Flash about the lab results just yet. Despite the negative results on the assays Peter had run, Jack was still inclined to intuit that Connie had been poisoned in some way or another.

“I’m curious about where she lived,” Jack said. “You mentioned it was in an area with small wooden cottages. Is it an historic area?”

“I don’t think it’s historic,” Flash said. “But it’s old.”

“How old?”

“Man, I don’t know,” Flash said. “What are you asking me this for?”