"Not necessarily. If your witness gives him a good ID in the lineup with the boyfriend, or if the boyfriend has a cast-iron alibi and Wismer's loose for the time of, then you got something to work with."

"You mean plead him?"

"Offer man one, settle for man two. Ask for twelve, they'll offer six, you'll close on eight. He'll do maybe four and a half."

Collins's smile was rueful. "You've done this before."

"How can you tell?" said Karp, returning the smile. "So. I think that's how it's gonna play. On the other hand, you know how I run the office; it's your case, your call. You want a trial slot on this?"

"I think I'll pass this time," said Collins, looking relieved and at the same time faintly ashamed of being relieved. He looked at his watch again and leaped to his feet. "Jesus! I'm due in calendar court four minutes ago. Thanks a lot, sir!"

"No problem," said Karp, "and don't worry about Wismer. You stay around long enough, you'll catch him on his next wife."

Collins laughed racing out.

Sir? When the hell did they start calling him that? Karp sighed and rubbed his face. He looked with distaste at the pile of case folders waiting his review in the wire basket on his desk. They came in at an average of three a day, each one representing a New Yorker who had dealt with one of life's little problems by terminating the existence of a fellow citizen. Most of them were pathetic shards from the rubble of life in the lower depths, like Wismer.

He knew he had cheered up Collins. He did that for his staff half a dozen times a day. Collins was a pretty good guy, in fact, better than some of the newer people he'd had to take in just to keep up with the killing. Collins would probably get it after a while, get the sense of what was possible in a system essentially corrupt, a system designed to fail most of the time. A lot of them wouldn't, ever. And, of course, Collins would probably leave shortly after he knew what he was doing, and Karp would have to pump up another kid.