“Who was she, Mercer?” I said, smiling for what seemed like the first time in hours. “What did you hear? Spare nothing.”
“Code of silence, m’man,” Mike said, pointing his finger at Mercer.
“Can’t go there, Alex. Sorry.”
“So back to business, then,” I said, drumming my fingers on Mike’s knee. “What happened with Daniel Gersh?”
“Port Authority police managed to delay the departure for about fifteen minutes, to give us a shot at the kid. But he wasn’t the least bit cooperative. I think his old man really put the fear of God in him.”
“With good reason. I’d like to talk to the stepfather as badly as to Daniel,” Mike said. “Shh. Here’s the category—it’s ASTRONOMY. Let’s see your money.”
“I’m good for it. I left my bag upstairs.” It was safer there than just about anyplace in the city.
“Ready to double down?”
“Not a chance. Unless you tell me more about the girl you were ogling at Elaine’s.” The famous watering hole was a last-call stop for many reporters and detectives on their way off duty in the early morning hours.
“She reminds me of you.” Mike was inhaling his drink and already seemed more playful.
“Brace yourself, Alex. This won’t be pretty.” Mercer laughed.
“Too skinny for my taste, for starters. Actually, that’s where the resemblance ends.”
“See, Mercer? Painless for me.”
“Almost forgot. Good-natured. Quick to laugh.”
“Who’s faster than I am when it’s not over a dead body?”
“Very solicitous of my needs. Patient with me and all that.”
“She’s got me there. Not happening. Ever.”
“And instead of the ice water that courses through your veins, she’s all heart. Somehow, I have the feeling that girl gets under the sheets and gives in to it, you know? Isn’t all Miranda warnings and Fifth Amendment, reciting sections of the Penal Law and worrying if what you’re doing is okay with Paul Battaglia.”
“That’s your idea of me in bed, Mikey? Love-locked because of the law and too much Battaglia on the brain? Sweet.”
Alex Trebek read the Final Jeopardy! answer aloud: “‘Friday the thirteenth, April 2029, this object will come uncomfortably close to Earth.’ Too close to Earth, folks. That’s your final answer.”
The three contestants earnestly peered at the game board before starting to write.
“You good for forty, Mercer?” Mike asked.
Each one of us had our favorite subjects. For me, with a heavy concentration of literature studies at college, I usually cleaned up on book and author questions. Mike knew more about military history than most scholars I’d ever encountered, and his knowledge of war and warriors took him deep into myths of ancient cultures. Mercer’s lifelong fascination with geography made him a whiz in that category, and most of the time we hedged our bets on the strength of our friends’ wisdom.
The Jeopardy! time clock ticked on as Mercer nodded to Mike.
“Don’t be a bad sport, Coop. Give me your best guess.”
“What’s an asteroid? It’s got to be an asteroid. You really think I’ve got ice water?”
“Of course it’s an asteroid. Any fool could answer that. What’s its name? You got tons of compassion for every victim or fool who sits in front of your desk. But your love life? Totally lacking in substance.”
“I have no idea of the asteroid’s name. Mercer, you got this?” I said. “What about Luc? Doesn’t he count for anything?”
“Case in point. The guy lives for foie gras. How do they make it? Tap-tap-tap—first you nail the damn goose in place, then you force-feed it to fatten it up. After that you kill it, just to make a little pâté for some rich customer and his babe. You and Luc are a perfect match in that department. Cool as ice. He’s got his head back on the pillow, fantasizing about his next meal, and you’re dreaming about how many convictions you can get in this quarter.”
“She’s all heart, Mike. Ask my kid,” Mercer said. “What is Apophis?”
Trebek was consoling the two contestants who gave wrong answers.
“Looks like we split the pot, pal. What is Apophis?” Mike asked. “That’s the stuff. The damn thing might get close enough to dip beneath our communications satellite. Set off a tsunami that would clean up Venice Beach and all the whackjobs on it. Named for the Egyptian god of death.”
Mike knew everything there was to know about death. He clicked off the TV with the remote. “Let’s feed her and send her home.”
None of us needed a menu. We could probably recite the choices from memory as well as the waiters. Adolfo told us the specials and