"Okay, on the cops-who caught the case again?"

"Angeletti, Zone Six Homicide."

"Yeah, Vince Angeletti. Look, here's the thing: the cops got a lot to do, especially uptown there, and the last thing they want to do is to piss on their own cleared cases. But with the situation as it is right now you couldn't convict Wismer of criminal mischief, much less murder two. You got to get them to check out this character Hobart. Don't ask them, tell them. If you get any more shit from Angeletti, let me know and I'll fuck with his head. His lieutenant is a good buddy of mine. You got to remind these guys once in a while who's in charge of a criminal prosecution. When you got Hobart, do the lineup again, and make sure whoever's on D is there to see it. If your witness waffles, I think we're fucked. Or we could get lucky and find a bunch of bloody clothes in Hobart's closet. He's got that assault conviction."

"But we have Wismer's prints…"

"Come on!" Karp said impatiently. "The guy lived there. You want to put him away for twenty-five because he squeezed some orange juice last April?"

Collins looked down at the thick file folder on his lap, weeks of work gone glimmering. "But," he said despairingly, "Wismer did it."

"Yeah, I agree. He probably did do it. But probably isn't good enough. Domestics are hard to prove circumstantially anyway. The killer was intimate with the victim and they shared a space-fibers, hairs, prints don't mean much. You need an eyewitness to the crime itself, or a confession, which is how we clear ninety percent of domestics. Without that…" Karp shrugged and added, "I like it when they keep the bloody knife, or bury the stiff in the basement."

Collins was looking stunned. "So… what? He walks on this?"