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Hardy's best friend, Lieutenant Abe Glitsky, has kept a secret from him...and everyone else. Hardy never knew that Abe had a daughter-until she was shot dead. It seems obvious that the heroin addict hovering over her body with a gun is the guilty party, and Glitsky has few qualms about sweating a confession out of him. But there is more to this murder-much more. And as both Hardy and Glitsky risk their lives to uncover the truth, others are working hard to stop them.
Skylark to wait for the police tow truck to come and impound the vehicle. By now, they were laughing about it. “You were damn lucky I didn’t pop you where you stood,” Banks said. “I know. I realized that about a second too late. It just seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. I hate that little pecker. Haven’t seen him in a couple of years.” “How’d you know where I was going?” “You said Excelsior. Drug overdose. I guessed. I’m made here, so I don’t hang about much, but I saw you and
disappeared. We believed that meeting concerned the murder of Elaine Wager, but we didn’t know exactly why Inspector Banks had asked for it. Based on that, and since Mr. Visser was the last person to see him, I requested a search warrant on Mr. Visser’s place of business.” “And what were you looking for?” “I guess the best answer is anything we could find that might relate to this meeting, including documentary evidence to verify whether it actually took place and how long it lasted.”
did you meet with Elaine Wager on the night she was killed?” “No, of course not.” “No? Was that because you were, in fact, out with Ms. Pratt the entire evening?” “No. I wasn’t out with Ms. Pratt.” “That’s right, you weren’t. If you had been, Estelle Gold would have seen you at David’s Deli, isn’t that right?” “I guess she would have, if she saw Sharron, as she said.” “But just this morning, didn’t you tell my associate David Freeman that you specifically remembered that you had spent the
the prosecutor at the arraignment, someone who was actually trying to do the right thing, to bring Elaine’s killer to justice. The volume steadily increased, echoing in the open space, and Treya turned in her pew to catch a glimpse of the incoming flow. She had to catch her breath as, almost directly behind her, she recognized Abe Glitsky and—she had a hard time even believing the gall of it—the lawyer, Hardy, who’d been in the courtroom representing Elaine’s killer. The lieutenant seemed as
minute. “Gary?” He pointed. “Guns? Okay?” McDougal waved him in. “Sure.” Nonissue. Like the sign-in area, the gun room was floor-to-ceiling shelves and files, packed with yellow storage envelopes identified by case numbers in black permanent marker, and each of which held a gun. Four or five hundred file drawers, with a minimum of, say, forty handguns in each one. Several of the file drawers gaped open, possibly—Visser thought—because they were too stuffed with hardware to allow closing. On