I TOOK a shower. Shaved. Opened the refrigerator and gave Pansy a quart of vanilla fudge ice cream. She snarfed it down while I made myself some rye toast. I fed it into my stomach slowly, sipping ginger ale. Scratching Pansy behind her ears the way she liked. Talking softly to her- praising her for protecting our home while I was gone. Working on calm.
Changed into a dark suit, a pale blue shirt, and a black tie.
Davidson's office is in midtown, a rifle shot from Times Square. The receptionist was a light-skinned black woman with a severe face. When her smile flashed, her face turned beautiful, then went back to business. She goes to law school nights, waiting for her time to come. I gave her the name Davidson and I agreed on. She buzzed back, got the word, told me to go ahead.
The meeting didn't take long. "What they got is a bad bust," he told me. "An unsolved homicide wouldn't make them that crazy, so it's something else running. You know what it is?"
"Maybe."
"Any chance…?"
I knew what he meant. "No," I told him.
"If they need us back in court, I'll get a call."
"Okay. We're square for now?"
"Yeah."
I shook hands and walked out. Davidson would do his piece, but he was a lawyer. For him, survival was a Not Guilty verdict. The jury of my peers was still out.