She looked embarrassed, but she swept away with a livelier step.
“Do you ever piss them off?” I asked.
“Only the smart ones.”
I shook my head.
“Hey,” he said. “Everybody likes a compliment. It’s a cheap way to make the world a better place.” He sipped his beer. “So what’s up with you? You look like shit.”
“Where’s my compliment?” I asked.
“That was your compliment.”
“Thanks.”
“Seriously, man. How are you?”
Suddenly, my eyes felt heavy. I couldn’t pull them up from the bottle they stared at so intently. There was no answer for his question. Because no one wanted to hear the truth of how I was.
“Hanging in there,” I finally said.
“I bet you’re tired of giving that answer,” he said, letting me know that I wasn’t putting one over on him. Then he smiled to show that he was okay with that. “If you change your mind . . .”
“Thanks, Hank. I appreciate that.”
“So,” he said. “Let’s talk business. I assume you want me to help figure out who killed your father.”
My surprise must have shown on my face. But of course that was what he’d think; I should have seen it coming. I had to be careful. Hank and I were colleagues and occasional drinking buddies, but I had no idea how far his loyalty would extend. He was clearly puzzled.
“I never liked him much,” I said. “The cops can handle that one.”
“Okay,” Hank said slowly, obviously at a loss but not wanting to push. He drummed his fingers twice on the table. “So . . .” He waited for me to fill in the blanks. So I did. Somewhat. It took a while. Then I told him what I wanted.
“Jesus,” he said. “I didn’t know you had such a high opinion of me.”
“Can you do it?” I asked.
“I wish I could say yes, but I can’t. You want to find out who tossed that chair down the stairs, and I don’t blame you. But I’m not a fingerprint technician and I don’t have access to AFIS or any other fingerprint database. What you need is a cop and a full crime-scene work-up. That’s out of my league.”
“The cops won’t go there,” I told him. “They don’t believe me, and I’m not sure I want to push it.”
“Then you’re screwed, man. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. His answer didn’t really surprise me. But I wanted to know who was responsible. It had happened, and it had happened for a reason. Maybe it had something to do with Ezra’s death and maybe it didn’t; either way, it was important. “What about the safe?” I asked.
“For that, you need a locksmith or a criminal. I’m neither.”
“I thought that maybe . . .”
“What? That maybe I’d know someone?” I nodded. “As it turns out,” he said, “I do. But he’s in lockup. Ten to twelve. Why don’t you just use a locksmith?”
“Because I don’t know what’s in there, and I don’t want some stranger knowing, either. Not when the cops are so interested.”
“You hoping to find the gun?”
I nodded. If the gun was in the safe, then maybe Jean hadn’t killed him after all. And if she hadn’t . . . then I’d get rid of the evidence. Besides, who knew what other secrets Ezra had tucked away in that safe?
“I’m sorry, Work. I feel like I’m letting you down. All I can tell you is this: People are predictable. When they set combination locks, they usually use numbers that are important to them. You should think about that.”
“I already tried. Birthdays, Social Security numbers, phone numbers.”
Hank shook his head sadly, but the twinkle in his eyes was not unkind. “I said predictable, Work, not stupid. Think about your father. Figure out what was important to him. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“Maybe,” I echoed, unconvinced.
“Look, man. I’m sorry you wasted your time. I wish I could help.”
“Well, there is one other thing,” I told him. “It’s personal.”
“I can do personal.” He pulled on the beer, waiting.
“It has to do with Jean.”
“Your sister.”
“Right.” Then I told him what I wanted.
He took out a piece of paper and a pen. “Okay,” he said. “Tell me everything you know about this Alex Shiften.”
So I told him what I knew. It didn’t take long.
He tucked the paper away in his shirt pocket just as two women seated themselves at the bar. They were both in their midtwenties, both beautiful. They looked at us, and one of them waved minutely. Hank played it off, but I wasn’t fooled. “Did you set this up?” I asked,