"It's a good opportunity-," he added.

The laughter increased in intensity, and the other man, who was a detective lieutenant in the New York Police Department, started to lose control of his limbs and slide off his seat.

Karp started to laugh too, as the thought of trying to convince a hysterically laughing man to take charge of the field investigation of the death of John F. Kennedy suddenly struck him as hilarious.

Several minutes passed in this way, and when the lieutenant, whose name was Clay Fulton, and who was Karp's oldest and best friend in the cops, had advanced to the stage of gasping "Oh, God" and wiping his eyes with his lemon silk handkerchief, Karp took up his case again.

"Seriously, Clay…"

"Oh, God, don't start," Fulton groaned. "My heart can't take much of this anymore."

"Seriously," Karp persisted. "I think it's a good deal. You were set to retire from the job anyway."

"You are serious about this," said Fulton, sitting up again.

"I keep saying."

"You're going to go find out who aced JFK, and you want me to help you?"

"You got the picture. What's your problem?"

Fulton let out a whoosh of breath and scratched the side of his heavy jaw. He regarded Karp through narrowed eyes. "Well, I got a couple. One, what makes you think we're gonna do any good on a thirteen-year-old investigation, that the guys who were there when the corpse was still warm couldn't've done?"

"Maybe they didn't want to. Maybe they were incompetent. Besides, it was Texas. You ever been in Texas?"

"Yeah, in the army. Why?"

"Well, so you know what it's like. Do they have food? Do they have shows? Do they have clothes? They're hicks, face it. So, get a couple of sharp New York kids like us in there, a little hustle-it'll be a whole different story."