The Hearing

'But Elaine didn't know it either? Didn't know her own dad?'

'No, not until after her mother died. She'd left her a letter.'

'A letter? About something like that?' There was a lengthy silence. 'So then what did she do? Elaine. Did she go and see him?'

'No. She didn't think it was her place. She thought he should come to her. Which he never did.'

'Never?'

She shook her head. 'It never happened. He's just a cold man. He didn't care.'

'Was that why?'

'Why what?'

'Why didn't he tell her? Didn't he care?'

'I would think so.' Treya reached for her water glass and took a drink. 'Why else wouldn't he?'

She shrugged. 'Maybe the same reason she didn't tell him. He might have thought it wasn't his place. He didn't want to butt in.'

The simple truth of it rocked Treya and she shook her head. 'No. You'd have to meet him. He's just hard as nails.'

'Maybe he just doesn't show things. I know somebody like that.' The arm tightened again, and Treya leaned into it. 'So he was there this morning? What happened?'

She was back to the thought that wouldn't go away. 'I think I might have killed him.'

At Jupiter, things were hopping.

At ear-splitting volume with the bass boosted to rattle the bones, Shania Twain was telling her honey she was home and wanted a cold one, and the way the bartender was hopping behind the bar, she wasn't the only one.

It was a rectangular room, sixteen feet wide and a good bit more than twice that long. The stools at the bar itself were all taken – fifteen men and six women, all of them between twenty-nine and thirty-five, none of them destined to go home alone tonight. Another three or four dozen people stood behind them on the thin stretch of floor between the bar and the booths or in the bullpen opening just behind them. Shoulder to shoulder and hip to crotch, the young professionals drinking here were mostly in law enforcement – police and attorneys, law students and clerks. A smattering of excitement groupies who loved the scene.

Jupiter was their place. They could let it out here among friends and colleagues. Most of the people here felt that outside, they lived in a constricted powder keg of frustration, tension, even danger. Some of the married ones existed in a constant state of schizophrenia – their daily life in the cop world and their home in suburbia. Jupiter was the decompression chamber that allowed them to survive the passage from the soul-eating, mind-numbing pressure of the one to the soul-eating, mind-numbing boredom of the other.

Tiny windows, high up in the bare yellow walls, dripped with condensation and gave a subterranean feel to the place. Even in the daytime, with its long and narrow shape, the bar felt like the inside of a submarine, but by night this feeling was especially pronounced. It is illegal to smoke cigarettes in eating or drinking establishments in San Francisco, yet the air was blue and acrid, thick with tobacco smoke. A few complaints had actually been filed from random walk-in do-gooders, but somehow they'd all mysteriously gotten lost.

Whatever it was that rose from the vats of French fry oil and the hamburger grills back in the kitchen added their own weight and odor to the air. Tonight at eleven fifty-one, the temperature outside was 44 degrees.

It was 86 degrees – hot – in the furthest of the six booths from the front door.

In that booth, Dash Logan had removed his coat and draped it over the Naugahyde behind him. The top two buttons on his dress shirt were undone, his tie was loose. Clean-shaven, with a boyish face and pere

Certainly, tonight he was doing all right with Co

Co

Just across the table at the same booth, one of Co

The problem with youth these days, he thought. In spite of ads exhorting Just Do It! everywhere you turned, they couldn't seem to just fuckin' do anything.

This waffling right across the table with one of Co

But Dash was going pretty good here, telling fu

It was time to make some magic. 'Co

'It's OK.' She was smiling at him. Perfect teeth. Great skin. One of those terrific northern Italian noses. 'That was cute.'

Cute was good, he thought. He'd take cute. 'So are you a little warm? You want to go outside and cool off?'

She nodded. 'That does sound good, actually.'

'Here, I'll get your coat.'

Her girlfriend noticed. 'Where are you going?'

Dash leaned across the table. 'Back in five. Promise. Save our places, will you?'

With a light hand on her back, he guided Co

Co

He had carried both their jackets out, and helped put hers on. 'Better?'

'Some.' But clearly not enough.

With no hesitation, he took his own coat and draped it over her. Jupiter was in an industrial neighborhood and the street was wide, with a railroad track down the center of it. Streetlights illuminated the entire block. It was a cop bar – city services tended to work. The street, though deserted, actually looked inviting.

He held out his hand, she took it and they began to walk.

He'd parked two-thirds down the street and they stopped to admire his BMW Z3. 'Would you like to sit in it?' He opened the door, let her in, went around to his side. It was a convertible, but the top was up, and inside he turned on the motor and the heat. 'OK.' He put on an accent. 'You want to kick it up a notch?'

She nearly squealed with delight. 'Oh, you watch Emeril. I love him.'