In Parker's office at One Police Plaza, Blake listened to the whole story. When the police captain was finished, Blake nodded.

'I'd like to hear what Romano said from his own mouth, then I'd like to see where it happened.'

'Be my guest.' Parker picked up the telephone. 'Have my car at the front entrance in five minutes.'

Shortly thereafter, still in the rain, that bad March weather, they stood on the edge of the pier with umbrellas and looked down into the water covered with scum and flotsam.

'She was there by the steps,' Parker told him. 'The night watchman saw her. I happened to be walking along.'

'And you pulled her in.'

'I couldn't leave her.'

Blake nodded. 'Let's go and see Romano.' He turned and walked away.

At the morgue, Romano was in the chief medical examiner's office, drinking minestrone soup from a plastic cup and eating French bread. Parker made the introductions.

Romano said, 'I'm really sorry.'

'Just tell me what you told Harry.'

Romano did.

'So she was murdered?'

'In my opinion, and for what it's worth, yes.'

'But why?' Parker demanded. 'And what would a nice middle-class lady with an apartment in the Village be doing in Brooklyn under these circumstances?' They sat silent for a moment. 'You never had any children, did you, Blake?'

'No.' Blake shrugged. 'It wasn't possible. She was sterile, so she concentrated on her career, and I concentrated on mine. We just kind of drifted apart. But though we got divorced, we never lost touch. We were always concerned friends.' He turned to Romano. 'I'd like to see the body.'

'No, you wouldn't.'

'Yes, I damn well would.' At that moment Blake looked every inch the Vietnam veteran.

Parker put a hand on Romano's shoulder. 'George, I'd say we should indulge the man.'