Now the man’s face was all concern. Was he reading the new horror that was setting in behind her eyes? She had taken Blue Legs’ wound for a flower. What a fool she had been. A rose in winter? Why hadn’t she known the young woman was on her way to dying? Perhaps she could have…

Oh yes, she could have. If only she had not the fool’s idea to go out without her glasses and her hearing aid. And now she bowed her head with the weight of a dark understanding. In the same way she had prevented the carnage twixt a beetle and a spider, with only the flick of her wrist, she might have prevented a murder.

So a bug survived, a woman died.

Blue Legs, I am so sorry.

He touched her hand lightly to call her face back to his so he might ask another question. Had she seen anything else, anything out of the ordinary?

Well, no. The young lovers had taken all her attention.

A speeding blur of red cap and jacket with churning blue-jeaned legs ran past them in a boy’s whiff of spearmint gum and wet wool. A dog was fast on the heels of the boy. Dog and boy left the path and put new tracks in the virgin snow of the incline behind the benches. Then they were gone.

‘Oh, the dog. Yes, there was a dog racing up that hill, and he caught his leash in the brambles. I suppose I should have thought it odd to see the dog with the leash and no human attached to the other end. But you know, people will let the dogs run wild in the park, though it is against the law.’

‘There’s someone I’d like you to meet,’ said the man. And now she found his smile quite engaging – though still a bit loony.

When they stopped to speak with the doorman at the Coventry Arms, the man’s friend, Mallory, was not at home. The doorman checked the name against a list on frayed, creased paper. He smiled broadly and invited them to wait for Miss Mallory in the lobby.

‘Mallory, just sit down and shut the hell up.’

To Coffey’s surprise, and he hoped it was concealed surprise, she sat.

‘Don’t you ever walk out on a meeting again. I don’t want any more grief from you. Don’t you even think about irritating me any more, no more insubordination, none of that crap. I’ve got Riker for that. If he thinks you’re stealing his song and dance, he won’t like it.’

‘I’m not going to work with Palanski.’

‘No, you’re not. But that was my decision, not yours. And now about that other little job I gave you. Did you pull the records for me?’ Did you steal them for me?

She said nothing and he had to make what he could of the silence. He was operating by Mallory’s rule book now.

‘I hope you’re doing this discreetly.’ Don’t get caught.

Silence.

‘I’ve got an idea Palanski does a lot of overtime.’ He’s on the take.

She only nodded, but that was promising.

‘He seems to have some kind of radar for homicide scenes within smelling distance of money – even on his days off. He was on vacation time when the body turned up in the park. Oh, sorry, Mallory. I’m telling you what you already know. That’s rude, isn’t it?’

He was close to joy when the side of her mouth dipped with annoyance. So even Mallory had buttons. ‘Did you bring me the records?’

‘You don’t want to see his records,’ she said.

‘Mallory – ’

‘Markowitz never turned on a cop.’

‘Shut up, Mallory. Granted, I’m no Markowitz, but neither are you. Your old man was a detail fanatic. He’d take any information he could get, from anywhere, anybody. You should have learned more from him when you had the chance. Your lone cowboy attitude isn’t something I expect to cure in a day, but I do want to keep you alive long enough to bring you up on charges the next time you cross me. Someone at the Coventry Arms tipped Palanski to the activity. It might be your perp, or it might be you rattled another cage and it’s unrelated. If I’m going to plug the leaks, I need the dirt on Palanski.’

Her arms folded across her chest. No, she was telling him, she was not going to roll over on a cop.

‘I’ll handle Palanski,’ she said. And then she threw in, ‘If you like,’ as a concession. It was a small gift from Mallory, a consolation prize as she was telling him to go to hell. Another round was lost.

‘Okay, you handle it.’ Was he losing his mind, loosing her on Palanski, giving her carte blanche? ‘Don’t do anything Markowitz wouldn’t ask you to do.’

‘Understood.’

Later, in the washroom, he saw a ghost in the mirror over the sink. It was Markowitz – no, it was Jack Coffey wearing Markowitz’s old worries over Mallory and what she did and what might come back on him. Breaking laws to keep them was the norm now.

He was so easily seduced by her.

He was going to kill her. It was the only way. But first, a little fun. He would make her pay for torturing him, and she would pay slowly.

Thoughts of her came and passed. When she was in his mind, she brought with her a burning sensation, inflicting a hot red flush all through his body and his brain. When he thought of her, it was her eyes he saw before him, the bright lanterns of an onrushing accident, running mindless, relentless, along a single track, no one at the wheel, no way to stop her.

And each time that moment of helpless fear and panic passed on, he was left with exhausted humiliation and anger. Now his hands balled into fists so tight, his nails left red indentations on his palms. One of those indents was filling with blood.

He looked down at the bleeding flesh. She had reached out and done this to him. She had drawn first blood, and she would be sorry.

A fat gray bird strutted along the ledge by his open window. It was still there when he returned from the kitchen with the bread. He crumbled a slice in his hand and slowly reached through the window to lay a line of crumbs for the bird.

It jerked and started and cocked its head to look at him with one eye only. It was a city pigeon and unafraid of humans, who had failed in all their pathetic attempts to annihilate its entire species as a defecating public nuisance. Contemptuous of the hand which lay only inches away, the bird concentrated on the meal of bread crumbs which brought it ever closer to its death.

A young woman stood at the desk in the lobby. Something was concealed behind her back and concealed quickly at first sight of the couple being pointed out to her by the man behind the desk.

Formal introductions were made to Cora by her new friend, the man with the foolish smile, and now the small party moved up through the floors of the tall building to the spacious apartment which did not fit the personality of the young woman called Mallory.

‘Mallory, you were right,’ said the man whom Cora now called Charles.

He was well mannered in the way he kept his face toward her so that she should not miss any part of his conversation with the young woman.

‘Amanda was meeting him in the park that day. It was a spontaneous act, as you said. And the murder occurred at 7:45. We have a witness. Mrs Daily, may I introduce my partner, Mallory? Mallory, this is Cora Daily, who likes to take long walks through the park in bad weather.’

‘How do you do,’ said Cora. The child before her was so lovely, but there was an aspect to the girl that was inhuman. Eyes like a cat she had. Well, that was all right, in fact, that was fine. In seventy-eight years, Cora had outlived many cats and had no fear of Mallory.

‘What did you see?’ asked the young woman, who was also quick to pick up on the lip-reading. She brought her face low and close. ‘Did you see the murder?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘Did you see him strike her? The first blow?’

‘No. But I did see the meeting between them.’

‘So you can identify the killer?’

‘No, you see I wasn’t wearing my glasses. But I know he was a tall man.’