"I guess not."

"You say he hit you?"

"Slapped," said Kurtz.

"He must think you had something to do with his niece getting shot in the head."

"I didn't."

"So you remember things now?"

Her voice still did strange things to him—that mixture of softness and rasp. Or maybe it was the concussion acting on him.

"No," said Kurtz. "I don't remember anything clearly after leaving the P.O.'s office after the interview. But I know that whatever happened to O'Toole in the garage, I didn't make it happen."

"How do you know that?"

Kurtz held up his freed right hand.

Rigby smiled ever so slightly at that and he remembered why they'd nicknamed her Rigby. Her smile was like sunlight.

"Did you have any problems with Agent Peg O'Toole?" she asked.

Kurtz shook his head and then had to hold it with both hands.

"You in a lot of pain, Joe?" Her tone was neutral enough, but seemed to carry a slight subtext of concern.

"Remember that guy you had to use your baton on in Patpong in the alley behind Pussies Galore?" he said.

"Bangkok?" said Rigby. "You mean the guy who stole the sex performer's razor blades and tried to use them on me?"

"Yeah."

He could see her remembering. "I got written up for that by that REMF loot… whatshisname, the asshole…"

"Sheridan."

"Yeah," said Rigby. "Excessive force. Just because the guy I brought in had a little tiny bit of brains leaking out his ear."

"Well, that guy had nothing on how I feel today," said Kurtz.

"Tough situation," said Rigby. There was no undercurrent of concern audible now. Kurtz knew that the words could be abbreviated "T.S." She walked to the door. "If you can remember Lieutenant Sheridan, you can remember yesterday, Joe."

He shrugged.