The gun didn’t answer any questions. But seeing the careful tape job, looking at the beautifully crafted stainless steel, imagining it combined with the silencer, had instantly renewed my intensity for the hunt. Raw red meat in front of a hungry dog.

Headache all but gone, I recalled Deirdre’s trip to the bathroom and change of clothes the first time I’d visited. Nickel to dime bags she’d come out holding; and I didn’t mean dope. Her palmsized weapon would barely wrinkle skintight pantyhose. But the gun was powerful enough to put a permanent wrinkle in anyone’s mortality. We were talking modern firearms here.

I walked to the front windows, lifted a shade, and looked carefully in both directions. The street was empty so I returned to the exercise bench, sitting there scanning the apartment, looking for places I hadn’t searched. In a moment of curiosity, I swung a leg over to the other side of the body builder and pulled on the weight handle. The first thing I noticed was the heavy poundage. The second was the loose grip under my left hand. I quickly worked the rubber off, stuck my finger inside, and felt it rub against a ball of paper. I went to the kitchen, returned with a knife, and slowly edged the ball free. I unwrapped the unusual paper and stared at two dull stones, each covered with a grayish film. I hoped they were diamonds, but had trouble believing jewels could appear as lifeless as the pebbles in my hand. These stones looked like they belonged in a fish tank, not floating in Liz Taylor’s cleavage.

Thoughtful, I replaced the rocks, then the rubber grip. After another rapid, fruitless run through the apartment, I left the building and trotted to my car. As I lit a cigarette I looked at my shining eyes in the mirror. Part of me wanted to rush the good padre and keep the pressure on, but I forced myself home. I wanted to give Deirdre time to discover that her rooms had been searched. I had left small items out of place but hopefully no clue that anything had been found. Though worried that my action reopened the possibility of another hit, I figured raising the stakes was the play. Anyway, Washington Clifford had vouched for my safety, hadn’t he?

I paid close attention as I took a long, circuitous route. I couldn’t shake the tingle on the back of my neck, but made it home and inside without mishap. Even had the courage to score a large Italian from the corner sub shop. It would be supper time in a couple of hours and I wasn’t going to cook. I preferred my cholesterol straight out of wax paper. I placed the sub in the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Negro Modelo. I had hours to kill before I paid a return visit to Deirdre, or went looking for Father Collins.

For the first time in a long, long while I enjoyed the late afternoon movie. Though Bogey’s face was the color of pink putty, his search for the black bird reminded me of my situation. Sam Spade hadn’t known or understood what he was involved with either. Still, he came out on top. Of course, Sammy busted someone he had fallen in love with, but hey, I didn’t fall that easy. Lucky me.

I was sitting at the kitchen table eating Italian and drinking Mexican when the telephone rang. “You’re a real fuck, you know that?” Cheryl snarled the moment I lifted the receiver. “You think I can ask my mamma to chauffeur me around town to look for a dead man? You might have been, for all I knew.”

After a moment’s guilt I scratched for something to say. But I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her I’d been spooked by her middle of the night transformation into Rebecca. “I’m sorry, kid, I blew it. I should have called. I’m okay.”

“No, you are most certainly not okay, Kid,” she mocked.

“I’m not going to get anything right today, am I?”

“You’re still alive, you fucker, I’ll give you that,” she replied, her tone softening. “Where the hell have you been?”

I told her about Reb Yonah’s walk, my encounter with Blue and Clifford, the gun I found at Deirdre’s apartment. I almost told her about the pebbles, but wanted to speak with Lou first. As I listened to myself rattle I wondered why I kept talking. It wasn’t her reprimand; over time, I’d been battered with enough recounts of my inconsiderate behavior to no longer feel forced to explain or rebut. Truth was, I had no reason to tell her anything. I just wanted to. I wanted her to know I wasn’t sitting around watching Bogart and drinking beer.

It would be an exaggeration to suggest she became entirely forgiving, but her tone lost its sarcasm. “Jesus. You’re not talking about a Saturday night special, are you?”

“I’ve never heard of folks using a silencer for protection. You ever see an AMT Backup? Very slick, very small. Very sweet.”

“I didn’t know you were a card carrying member of the NRA, White Man.”

I chuckled. “Professional interest, that’s all.”

“You say professional but you sound enthralled.”

“Impressed. And gratified that my instincts cashed in.”

“Your instincts? I had to blackmail you to stay on the damn case. So now you’re convinced the lady is shady. Do you understand any of it?”

“I think you had it right. The padre and Deirdre use the Color It Green organization as a local front for the IRA. My nosing around the Avengers threatened them so they tried to scare me away.”

“They weren’t trying to kill you?”

“I don’t think they cared one way or another.”

“And Blue?”

“He gives them a protective layer if he does the shooting.”

“What do you think threatened them?”

“I don’t know.”

“How does your friend Clifford figure?”

“I think he’s moving in.”

“What’s taking him?”

“I don’t know that either. Maybe he doesn’t have enough evidence, maybe he wants bigger fish.”

She took her time thinking about my explanations before she said, “What are you going to do now that you’re out of work?”

I grimaced and lit a cigarette. “Who said anything about done?”

“Stick a fork in yourself. The Rabbi is free and Clifford’s closing down the Provos. What’s left for you?”

She sounded like Simon. “I’m surprised at you,” I chided. “You’re smarter than that. Hell, you asked the question.”

“About the Avengers?”

“Yes.”

“You think it’s important?”

“There’s a crossover that I just don’t understand, Cheryl. Kelly was connected to the Color It Green through Deirdre. Kelly starts the Avengers and shoots the Big Rabbi. What the fuck is that about?”

“Matthew, Kelly’s dead, you’ve put the Avengers out of business, the Rabbi’s free. Even if you’re right and a few things are still cloudy, what difference does it make?”

“This doesn’t seem like you, Cheryl. What happened to the importance of giving the people the truth, the whole truth? Didn’t I hear you once say something about pulling facts out of the dark?”

“Yes, I said it. But I’m not sure these facts are worth anyone else dying for. Hasn’t there been enough blood?”

“Too damn much. That’s why it’s important to get to the bottom. To at least understand why Rabbi Dov died.”

“All of a sudden you’re hearing the angels sing? Or is it ego?”

“No angels, no mission.” I was still confused by her attitude, only now my confusion wore a cuff of annoyance. “Sure there’s ego. The case isn’t finished and I’m a detective.”

“You sound like a different detective than the one I first met.”

“It just takes me a while to get started. What’s bothering you? I apologized for not calling.”

“You apologized, but I was the one picturing your body bleeding on the floor.” She paused then said quietly, “This isn’t simply a story for me anymore. I thought it stopped being a job when they broke my hands, but it hadn’t. I was working when I had my mom drive me to your apartment the other night. But today, listening to hours of no answers on the phone gave me a few, anyhow. Matthew, the biggest regret I have about my broken hands is not being able to touch the lines in your face.”

I pictured the casts on her hands and didn’t know what to say. Or even feel. “I’m a little lost for words,” I admitted.

“Just don’t bring up the age difference, okay.”

I hadn’t, she had. But it gave me something to hold onto. “You just did.” I rushed on before she could interrupt. “And it’s not just the years, Cheryl. Back in another life I had a wife and daughter who died in a car accident. Rebecca would be a teenager if she were alive. You play some of those chords and it really complicates things between us.”

There was another long silence then, “You said your wife died too. Does that mean you can’t have relationships because all women remind you of her?”

It wasn’t a question and I knew it. But that didn’t stop me from flashing on my arm’s-length connection to Boots, and her similar imputations. “I don’t know what it means.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “no one on this here planet will ever think of us as kin.”

I smiled despite myself. There was something about this girl, woman, that snuck through my Russian winter.

Cheryl broke into my thoughts. “Are you being honest when you say you don’t know what it means?”

“Yes.”

“Are you willing to find out?”

“I don’t know.”

After a moment’s hesitation she started to laugh. “You don’t make it easy, you know that?”

“I can believe it.”

“And of course you’re going to stay on the case.”

“Of course.”

“But we’re going to talk about all this when you’re finished. You know that, don’t you?”

“I guess.”

“No guesses about it. And no more guessing whether you’re dead or alive. Right?”

“Right.”

“Take care of yourself, Matt. But you best keep in touch.”

I always took care of myself. Only sometimes I did it better than others. Despite our having the kinds of conversations I usually abhorred and avoided, my feelings for Cheryl were warm and confused. Hopefully, a puzzle to solve without the standard coat of Teflon I usually wore to relationships.

But only after I solved the case. At least I hadn’t told Cheryl I’d left a card at Deirdre’s. But I knew it, and also knew I had to keep the heat up.

And on. Night had descended and the apartment was chilly. I roused myself from the kitchen table and tried Lou’s number. The line was busy so I found a clean shirt and jeans and changed clothes. I tried his number again but it was just as busy. As I replaced the receiver the telephone rang and I imagined it was Lou.

“Lou, I’ve been trying to get you.”

“This isn’t Lou.”

Yakov’s voice caught me short. “Hello, boy. Back for another tour of a public institution? Or are you hankering for a little one-on-one?”

“Matt, please don’t joke around. I have to see you.”

I heard the tension in his voice but my first rush was impatience. I wanted to get on with my job. “It’s Saturday night, Yakov. Can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of something I’d like to finish.”

“I can’t wait any longer than I already have. It’s been a terrible Shabbos.”

I couldn’t ignore the urgency in his voice. “Okay, Yakov, we can get together. How about the Yeshiva in a half hour?” If Simon heard, he heard. At least I’d have a reason for the visit.

“No, not the Yeshiva,” Yakov said. “I want to come to your house.”

“Well, how about outside? The park you told me about, the one with the courts.”

“No. I won’t meet anywhere but your house,” he said stubbornly. “It’s the only place I can be certain not to be seen.”

“Can you tell me what this is about?”

“When I see you. I must get off the telephone now. Goodbye.”

No one had reason to harm him on his way into the building, but I didn’t want him in my apartment if someone came after me. I called Lou and asked if I could meet with Yakov in his place. Lou agreed but rushed me off the phone before I could ask him about the rocks. He was baking for Mrs. S. and had to go to her apartment. He told me to call when I finished using his place. He sounded pleased to have a reason to stay upstairs.

Me? I was not pleased about sitting around. And less so when I realized the kid was probably taking public transportation. I couldn’t remember ever seeing a Hasid step out of a cab.