“Geoff says there’s someone here to see you,” Coburn shouted. I nodded and handed back the ear protectors. I glanced at my watch as I walked up the basement stairs. 9:30. Way too early for Kincaid. I reached the top of the stairs and Geoff motioned to me. I didn’t see anyone in the lobby.

“What is it, Geoff?”

“Detective Harriman is waiting to talk to you.”

“Look, Geoff-”

“I asked him to wait outside. Now, I ain’t so old I don’t see you two must have had a scrap of something – he don’t leave his police work to come down here all of a sudden-like just on a whim. It’s none of my business, but I’ve never seen you be a coward, Miss Kelly, so you better get on out there and talk to the man, or you’ll disappoint me.”

I had to grin. “Lord knows, Geoff, I can’t afford to do that.”

I went out the front doors and saw Frank leaning against the building, looking at the toe of one of his shoes like it held the secret of life.

“Crime on a coffee break in this town?” I asked.

“Hi.” He stood up straight, but didn’t come closer. Wise man.

“I’m under strict orders from Geoff to listen to what you have to say. Have you been bribing that old geezer?”

“No, but it’s a thought. I came down here to apologize. They told me your phone is out of order.”

I reddened a little, but held my ground. “I was just thinking about why you made me so angry.”

“Well, besides the fact that I insulted you, you probably think I don’t trust you.”

That floored me. I don’t know exactly why. He has this knack for getting to the heart of things that has unnerved me more than once. It’s a little disquieting to be with someone who can read you like a large-type book. I didn’t say anything.

He sighed. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. And I do trust you.”

“Do you? I could have sworn otherwise from the conversation we just had on the phone.”

He leaned back against the wall and went back to studying his shoe.

“Look,” I said, “I accept your apology. I owe you one, too. As for the trust issue, I guess we need to talk. What time will you be getting home tonight?”

“Late,” he said quietly.

He was unhappy and I knew it, but I fought the urge to say something just to make him feel better. This was too important. I repeated that to myself a couple of times.

“If you aren’t too tired when you come home,” I said, “let’s talk. I’ll try to stay up. Or wake me when you get in.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at home then.” He turned and walked off without saying another word.

Well, I had stood up for myself all right. Why did I feel so shitty?

I TRIED TO CRAWL UP out of my foul mood before Steven Kincaid arrived. He showed up a little early; I was still working on some notes, but I asked Geoff to send him up. I glanced up as he entered the newsroom, and noticed that every female within shouting distance was looking him over.

Then I noticed the men. Hostile doesn’t quite describe it. I expected to hear the cry of Tarzan any minute. It was apparently stuck in some newsman’s throat.

“Hello, Steven,” I said with a smile that was as much amusement at the general consternation he had caused as it was a welcome.

“Hi, Irene. I’m a little early.”

“O’Connor once quoted someone as saying that ‘the trouble with being punctual is that nobody’s there to appreciate it.’”

He shrugged and gave me a fleeting, disarming grin. “Evelyn Waugh said punctuality is the virtue of the bored.”

“I think I like that one better. But you don’t strike me as being bored.”

“No. Restless, I suppose. Who’s O’Connor?”

“I’ll tell you about him on the way to lunch. Do you mind a walk of about six blocks?”

He didn’t. I used the time to talk on and on about my old friend and mentor. It made me smile, but when I looked over at my companion, his brows were knitted in concern.

“You say O’Connor was killed?”

“Yes. He was murdered.”

“So you know what it’s like.”

I stopped walking. “Do you mean, I know what you feel like? I don’t. He wasn’t my lover, but he was a beloved friend. But if you mean, I know what it’s like to lose someone suddenly, violently… well, yes, I guess I do.”

He looked like he might break down right out there on the sidewalk, so I took hold of his hand and pulled him forward. “Come on, keep moving. It’s good for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, following me. “I can’t seem to control my emotions these days. It’s humiliating. I’m not used to it at all.”

Well, the Banshee of the Press Room had no trouble understanding what that was like. I let go of his hand but kept walking at a brisk pace. He was forced to keep up with me. “You need to get some sleep, Steven. Your batteries are too run down to cope with everything that’s happened.”

Just then I noticed one of my shoelaces was untied. I stopped and bent to tie it, and became aware of someone watching us. From a car. A familiar car.

“Excuse me a moment, Steven. I need to embarrass someone.” I left him standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk and ran over to the car, just as the red-faced driver tried to start it up. I pounded on the window and he rolled it down.

“Pete Baird. What a surprise.”

“How’re you doing, Irene?”

“Pissed off, as a matter of fact. Since you’re willing to do your partner’s dirty work, I don’t suppose you’d mind being an errand boy. So here’s a message: you can tell your pal Frank that if he’s going to send his partner downtown to follow me around, he can-”

“Whoa! Wait a minute! Frank didn’t send me down here to watch you. It was my own idea. I swear it. He doesn’t know I’m here. And you damned well better hope I don’t tell him I saw you holding hands with young Studley Do-Right over there.”

“In the first place, you know I wasn’t ‘holding hands,’ not in the way you imply I was. In the second place, buzz off. This doesn’t concern you or Frank – and no, don’t give me a lot of bull about it. I’ll call Bredloe and tell him his boys are harassing me.”

“That would be a laugh. The Captain knows what a pain in the ass you can be.”

“Are you on assignment right now?”

He turned red again.

“I thought so. Have you ever done this before?”

“Tailed people? Sure…”

“No, I mean, watched me walk to lunch.”

His brows drew together. “What?”

But I had already reconsidered the question. Pete was working with Frank in other parts of town on the other days I thought I had been followed.

“You’ve gotta believe me, Irene,” he was saying. “It was my idea. Frank would kill me if he knew.”

I didn’t doubt that Pete would come up with something like this on his own. He was as loyal as an old hound to Frank, and notorious for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. A fight between Frank and me would be all the excuse he needed. “I’m very fond of you, Pete, but sometimes you are a true butt itch. I’ll just stand here until you get yourself gone.”

He muttered something and pulled away. I waited until he had driven out of sight before I went back over to Steven, who was clearly puzzled.

“Who was that?”

“A secret admirer. Are you hungry?”

He nodded.

WE WALKED ABOUT three doors down and entered the world of Rosie’s Bar and Grill. Up until the moment we walked through the door, all I was hoping for was a chance to find out a little more about Rosie Thayer. I’ll admit that I was bringing Kincaid along to see if anyone there acted like they recognized him, although I was fairly sure he would have balked at having lunch there if he had been lying to me about not knowing Rosie Thayer. He was not the kind of man who went unnoticed.

But as soon as my eyes adjusted to the dark interior, I made the connection between E.J. Blaylock and Rosie Thayer. The place was empty, so it wasn’t the patrons that provided the clue. It was the decor. Rosie’s Bar and Grill was something of a shrine.