Annabeth nodded. "Not for long. A few months, yeah, Jim? It ended back in November."
"How'd Bobby take it?" Whitey asked.
The Marcuses exchanged glances again, and then Jimmy said, "There was a beef one night. He came to the house with his guard dog, Roman Fallow."
"And?"
"And we made it clear they should leave."
"Who's we?"
Annabeth said, "Several of my brothers live in the apartment above us and the apartment below. They're protective of Katie."
"The Savages," Sean told Whitey.
Whitey placed his pen on the pad again and pressed his index and thumb tips against the skin at the corners of his eyes. "The Savage brothers."
"Yes. Why?"
"All due respect, ma'am, I'm a bit worried this could shape up into something ugly." Whitey kept his head down, kneading the back of his neck now. "I mean absolutely no offense here, but? "
"That's usually what someone says before they're about to say something offensive."
Whitey looked up at her with a surprised smile. "Your brothers, you must know, have some reputations themselves."
Annabeth met Whitey's smile with a hard one of her own. "I know what they are, Sergeant Powers. You don't have to dance around it."
"A friend of mine in Major Crimes told me a few months back that O'Donnell was making noise about moving into loan-sharking and heroin. Both of which, I'm told, are exclusively Savage territory."
"Not in the Flats."
"What's that, ma'am?"
"Not in the Flats," Jimmy said, his hand on his wife's. "Means they don't do that shit in their own neighborhood."
"Just someone else's," Whitey said, and let that lie on the table for a bit. "In either case, that would leave a vacuum in the Flats. Right? An exploitable vacuum. Which, if my info is correct, is what Bobby O'Donnell has been planning to exploit."
"And?" Jimmy said, rising up a bit in his seat.
"And?"
"And what does this have to do with my daughter, Sergeant?"
"Everything," Whitey said, his arms spreading wide. "Everything, Mr. Marcus, because all either side needed was one little excuse to go to war. And now they have it."
Jimmy shook his head, a bitter grin twitching at the edges of his mouth.
"Oh, you don't think so, Mr. Marcus?"
Jimmy raised his head. "I think my neighborhood, Sergeant, is going to disappear soon. And crime's going to go with it. And it won't be because of the Savages or the O'Donnells or you guys bucking up against them. It'll be because interest rates are low and property taxes are getting high and everyone wants to move back to the city because the restaurants in the suburbs suck. And these people moving in, they aren't the kind that need heroin or six bars per block or ten-dollar blow jobs. Their lives are fine. They like their jobs. They got futures and IRAs and nice German cars. So when they move in? and they're coming? crime and half the neighborhood will move out. So I wouldn't worry much about Bobby O'Donnell and my brothers-in-law going to war, Sergeant. War for what?"
"For the right now," Whitey said.
Jimmy said, "You honestly think O'Donnell killed my daughter?"
"I think the Savages might consider him a suspect. And I think someone needs to talk them out of that kind of thinking until we've had time to do our jobs."
Jimmy and Annabeth sat on the other side of the table, Sean trying to read their faces but getting nothing back.
"Jimmy," Sean said, "without distractions, we can close this case fast."
"Yeah?" Jimmy said. "I got your word on that, Sean?"
"You do. And close it clean, too, so nothing comes back on us in court."
"How long?"
"What?"
"How long would you say it'll take you to put her killer in jail?"
Whitey held up a hand. "Wait a second? are you bargaining with us, Mr. Marcus?"
"Bargaining?" Jimmy's face had that convict's deadness to it again.
"Yeah," Whitey said. "Because I'm perceiving? "
"You're perceiving?"
"? an aspect of threat to this conversation."
"Really?" All innocence now, but the eyes still dead.
"Like you're giving us a deadline," Whitey said.
"Trooper Devine pledged that he'd find my daughter's killer. I'm just asking in what sort of time frame he thinks this will happen."
"Trooper Devine," Whitey said, "is not in charge of this investigation. I am. And we will depth-charge whoever did this, Mr. and Mrs. Marcus. What I don't need is anyone getting it in their head that our fear of a war between the Savage and O'Donnell crews can be used as some sort of leverage against us. I think that, I'll arrest them all on public nuisance charges and lose the paperwork until this is over."
A couple of janitors walked past them, trays in hand, the soggy food on top letting off a gray steam. Sean felt the air in the place grow staler, the night close in around them.
"So, okay," Jimmy said with a bright smile.
"Okay, what?"
"Find her killer. I won't stand in your way." He turned to his wife as he stood and offered her his hand. "Honey?"
Whitey said, "Mr. Marcus."
Jimmy looked down at him as his wife took his hand and stood.
"There'll be a trooper downstairs to drive you home," Whitey said, and reached into his wallet. "If you think of anything, give us a call."
Jimmy took Whitey's card and placed it in his back pocket.
Now that she was standing, Annabeth looked a lot less steady, like her legs were filled with liquid. She squeezed her husband's hand and her own whitened.
"Thank you," she whispered to Sean and Whitey.
Sean could see the ravages of the day finding her face and body now, beginning to drape her. The harsh light above them caught her face, and Sean could see what she'd look like when she was much older? a handsome woman, scarred by wisdom she'd never asked for.
Sean had no idea where the words came from. He wasn't even aware he was speaking until he heard the sound of his voice enter the cold cafeteria:
"We'll speak for her, Mrs. Marcus. If that's okay, we'll do that."
Annabeth's face crinkled momentarily, and then she sucked at the air and nodded several times, wavering slightly against her husband.
"Yes, Mr. Devine, that's okay. That's fine."
* * *
DRIVING BACK across the city, Whitey said, "What's this car business?"