Hardy lifted his shoulders an inch. “Parades,” he said, “can’t get enough of ’em.” A section of seats separated them from the rest of the group. Hardy asked why Abe was here himself if it wasn’t a murder.

Glitsky pursed his lips, thinking for a minute. “Long story,” he said finally. “Politics.”

“You? I thought you didn’t do that.”

Glitsky made a face. “I used to think you got political to move ahead. Now you need it to stay even.”

Hardy sipped at his next to last cup of beer. “Gets to that point, it’s too much stress.”

“That’s how people live, Diz,” Glitsky answered. “It’s how you stay alive.”

Hardy took a long, deliberate drink. “Is it?”

Glitsky’s nose flared. They had come up to the concession area, still away from the others, the gurney. “Yeah, it is. I got a wife and three kids. What am I supposed to do?”

The vehemence took Hardy back a step. “You feel that locked in, Abe?”

“I don’t know how I feel. I’m trying to do my job right and not lose what I got.”

“Well, there’s your problem,” Hardy said, trying to make it lighter, “you’ve got stuff you care about.”

The gurney went by. Deecks and the Cougar followed it, talking quietly. One of the techs came up and started saying something to Glitsky. He listened, nodded once, started walking. “But to answer your question,” he said, “no, this wasn’t a murder. The gentle victim got a little overenthusiastic near the railing. Deecks’ll write it up. End of story.”

“So why’d you come out?”

Glitsky sucked his teeth. “Because, like you Diz, I am enamored of all aspects of police work.” He flicked a finger at Hardy’s cup. “You spare a hit of that?”

Hardy took the backup beer out of his pocket. “Boy Scout training. Be prepared.”

They walked out of the park and started down Cardiac Hill, both of them sipping beer. “The politics really that bad?” Hardy asked.