Imagine how well he'd do if Parnassus was not going bankrupt.
Glitsky was in the elevator, and when the door opened on the fourth floor, he was looking at Dismas Hardy, who said, "I was just at your office. You weren't there."
"You're kidding." Glitsky stepped out into the lobby. "When?"
"Just now."
"I wasn't in my office?"
"No sign of you."
"One of the things I've always admired about you is that keen eye for detail."
The two men fell into step together, heading back toward the homicide detail. "What's another one?" Hardy asked.
"Another what?"
"Thing you've always admired about me. One implies there are more."
Glitsky glanced over at him, walked a few steps, shook his head. "On second thought, that's the only one. Keen eye for detail."
At homicide, inside Glitsky's office, Hardy took one of the fold-up chairs in front of the desk. He looked around critically. "You could use some art in here," he said. "It's a little depressing."
"I like it depressing," Glitsky said. "It keeps meetings short. Speaking of which"-he pointed at his overflowing in-box-"that is today's workload and I'm behind already. What can I do for you?"
"My keen eye for detail tells me that you're not in much of a sociable mood this morning, so I'll get right to it. I take it Bracco is one of your car police."
"That would be accurate." He reached for his in-box. "Well, drop by anytime. It's been a real pleasure."
"I've got one more. What do you know about Tim Markham?"
Glitsky stopped fiddling with paper, cocked his head to one side, and frowned. "Who are you representing?"
"Eric Kensing."
"Swell. When did that happen?"
"Recently."
Glitsky sat forward in his chair and brushed a hand over his scar. "As I recall, the last time I talked to you about a case at this stage, I lost my job for a couple of weeks."
"True. But it was the right thing to do." A year before, Glitsky had been put on administrative leave after he'd shown Hardy a videotape of his client's questionable confession before the DA's office had cleared it for discovery purposes. "And you know what Davy Crockett always said? 'Be sure you're right, then go ahead.'"
"I always thought that was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. The jails are full of people who think like old Davy. Genghis Khan, I believe, had the same motto."
"And a fine leader he was. I've just got a couple of quick questions. They won't get you fired. Promise."
"Ask one and let me decide. And quickly, if that's possible, though history argues that it isn't."
"Is Kensing in trouble?"
Glitsky nodded in appreciation. "That was pretty good for you." A shrug. "Well, no matter where we stand on charging Markham's murder, I'm betting your client is one guy who's definitely going to need a lawyer on the malpractice side alone. Aside from that…" Glitsky threw a glance over to the door-closed. He came back to Hardy. "I suppose he told you he's got a motive." He paused, then gave it up. "He was also the last person with the family."
"You mean Markham's family? The paper implied that it was the distraught wife."
"Yeah. I read it." Glitsky sat back. "I think you've had your question."
"You think it wasn't the wife? And if it wasn't, it was the same person who did the husband?"
"I don't think anything yet. I'm keeping an open mind."
"But if my client's a suspect for Markham, then he's-"
Glitsky stopped him. "We're not talking about this, Diz. You're way over your quota for questions. That's it."
"Okay. This isn't a question. I talked to Kensing this morning before I even left the house. He wants to talk to you."
"Sure he does. And I'm the queen of Bavaria. You're going to let him?"
"I told him it was a dumb idea. I was even a little adamant. But maybe you've heard, doctor knows best. He figures you'll hear his story and leave him alone. He's a witness, not a suspect."
"Is he talking immunity at this stage?"
"No, nothing like that. He didn't do anything wrong. He's a witness."
"And the best defense is a good offense."
Hardy shrugged. It wasn't his idea. He knew Glitsky might take it that way, but he thought that his job at this point was to mitigate Kensing's discomfort and arrange the talk on his schedule. "So how about my office, close of business?"
Glitsky considered, then nodded. "Okay. Doable."
"And he's a witness, not a suspect."
"I believe you've mentioned that a few times."
"Though you haven't said you're okay with it."
"There's that eye for detail again," Glitsky said. Then, sitting back. "He is what he is, Diz. I'm afraid we'll just have to see how it plays out."
After leaving homicide, he went down to Jackman's office to see if he could come upon any potentially helpful scrap of news regarding his new client. It wasn't likely, but the DA was relatively inexperienced in criminal matters and might inadvertently drop something if he and Hardy were simply two friends, casually schmoozing.
At Jackman's outer office, Hardy stopped in the doorway. Treya, on the telephone saying "Yes, sir" a lot to someone, smiled a greeting and held up a "just a sec" finger. Hardy came in, walked over, and kissed her on the cheek, then sat in the chair next to Jackman's door. Treya continued with her proper responses in her modulated, professional voice, but she rolled her eyes and made faces in the midst of them.
Watching her, Hardy broke a grin.
When Glitsky's first wife had died, Hardy would never have believed that anyone could have approached Flo as an equally compatible mate for his best friend. But in a little less than a year, Treya had won him and Frannie over. Not only competent and confident, Treya's sense of humor went a long way toward blunting Abe's razor edge.
At last she hung up. "The mayor," she explained. "Always wanting my opinions on the issues." Then, a questioning look. "Did you have an appointment? Is Clarence expecting you? I don't have you down."
"No. I'm just dropping by, seeing if he had a minute to chat."
"I don't think chat's on his agenda today. He just had me tell hizzoner he wasn't in." She smiled sweetly. "Maybe you would like to do it the normal way and schedule something?"
"I would, but I'm not sure when I'll be back at the hall."
"Here's an idea, Diz. You could plan to be. Others have been known to."
"But Clarence and I go way back. We're pals."
"He feels the same way."
"I just hate to see the spontaneity go out of our relationship."
Treya nodded sympathetically. "So does Clarence. He frets about it all the time. I'll put you down for tomorrow at three. You can talk about it then." The phone on her desk rang and, waving Hardy good-bye, she picked it up.
Back at his office, Hardy phoned the aquarium and discovered that Francis the shark was still alive and swimming under its own power. But Pico still wasn't admitting victory. "He hasn't eaten a damn thing. Swimming's one thing, but he's also got to eat."
"How do you know it's a he?"
"How do you think I got to be curator here? Could it be the Ph.D. in marine biology? The ability to tell males from female fish? One of those?"
"I always figured it was affirmative action of some kind. What are you trying to feed it?"
"Fish food." Pico was clearly done with Hardy's input on the subject. "Can we talk about something else? How'd it go with Eric?"