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particularly interested in Fernando, perhaps you could give me a call.”

“Of course.”

“In fact, can I have your number?” I pulled out another card and gave her my pen. She hesitated a moment, then wrote down her number on the back of the second card and handed it and the pen back to me. “I am very grateful, Ms. Beach.”

“Sandy, please. Ms. Beach makes me sound so old!” She laughed, then became serious. “Giorgio isn’t in any trouble, is he, Detective? I confess I have become rather attached to him.”

I looked back at the house. Dehan had gotten back in the car. I could see Giorgio’s form at the window, watching me. I said, “It’s Fernando we are mainly interested in, Sandy, but my advice to you would be to keep your distance.” I looked her in the eye. “Off the record, don’t get involved with them. They are dangerous men.”

There was real sadness in her eyes. “They’re always either married or bastards, aren’t they?” she said.

I gave a small laugh. “Often they’re both, and that’s just the women. The men are worse.”

She laughed and slapped my arm. I said goodbye and returned to the car. I got behind the wheel and called the inspector. “Sir, can we have a discreet watch on Giorgio and Fernando for the next twenty-four hours?”

“If you’re sure we need it, of course.”

“I’m sure, sir. Maybe Santos and Clay, and Warren and Groves. They’re good and reliable.”

“Very well. Anything I need to know?”

“No, sir, not just yet. But tell them to be very discreet, very alert and ready for the unexpected. We’re on our way to Jersey. We’ll be in touch.”

I turned the key in the ignition and moved north up Taylor Avenue, back toward Soundview.

Dehan sighed. “Jersey?”

“No. Not yet. First, we are going to see Frank. Then our lady of the midmorning.”

“Why Frank? Is there any point in my asking?”

“Yes, of course. Frank because I am increasingly worried about Fernando and Giorgio. They are dissolute, dangerous men.”

She closed her eyes and crossed her arms. “You are so annoying!”

“I promise I will explain everything on the way to Jersey. Scout’s honor.”

I didn’t tell her I was never a scout.

Thirteen

The visit to Frank took less than five minutes, and Dehan stayed in the car, sulking. I ran in, had a brief chat with him, and trotted back out again, trying not to fall. Dehan was behind the wheel. I had a private chuckle with myself and got in the passenger side.

“It was either this, to work off my frustration, or beat you to death with my fists.”

I laughed. “You made the right choice. The other could take a long time.”

She turned the key. The big engine growled and we took off down Morris Park Avenue like she was after the kid who just took her baby brother’s lunch money. I gave her a moment and said, tentatively, “You want me to tell you…”

“No.”

“Come on, Dehan. Don’t get mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Your face is mad.”

“Thanks.”

We drove in silence for a couple of minutes. Eventually, I said, “You’re my partner, Dehan. I have to tell you my theory,” and regretted it immediately.

Her face flushed and her eyes went bright. She glared at me. “No kidding!”

“Eyes on the road.”

“Well, I don’t want to know your theory! I will work it out for myself!”

“That is childish.”

“Just keep going, buster.”

She turned left into White Plains Road, over the bridge and left again onto East Tremont. A couple more savage turns put her onto the East 177th access to the I-95, headed west.

“Are we really going to have a fight over this?”

“No.”

“Can I tell you my theory then?”

“No. You wanted to keep it all to yourself. You keep it all to yourself.”

“Watson wasn’t like this,” I said, and gave her a tentative smile.

“I, for your information, Mr. Stone, am not Watson!”

“OK, you made your point. I apologize. It was vain and stupid of me. I just wanted to get the evidence before I committed to it.”

“I am your partner. Aside from being your wife, I am your partner. We share our thoughts. That is what partners do. I am not some damned foil for your admittedly brilliant mind. Partner. Comprende?”

“Comprendo. I will strive to correct this flaw in my character. Now can I tell you?”

“Apology accepted. No, you can’t. I am going to work this out for myself to prove to you that I am not Dr. John Stupid Watson.”

I sighed. “Fine…” After a while I grinned. “It really is very, very subtle.”

She looked at me with hooded eyes and said nothing. I followed her lead.

Thirty minutes later, we turned into Madison Street, found a spot in the high fifties, parked and went to ring the doorbell. When Melanie opened the door, Dehan gave me a look which involved arching her eyebrows high on her forehead. Melanie was pretty, of medium height and build, with long, blonde hair. She could have been Sue’s younger sister.

Dehan smiled. “Melanie? We spoke on the phone about an hour ago?”

Melanie beamed. “Oh, sure!” She smiled at me and winked. “Happy birthday, birthday boy! Come on in.”

We stepped over the threshold into a small entrance hall. Before she could close the door, I said, “Melanie, there is something I need to tell you before we go any further.”

She paused with her hand on the door and looked worried. “What?”

I pulled out my badge and showed it to her. “I am Detective John Stone, and this is my partner, Detective Carmen Dehan. We need to talk to you.”

She kind of sagged against the door. “Oh, man…”

It was Dehan who answered. “The good news is we’re not vice, this is not our patch

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