"And so as a reward, they're moving you out?" Frannie asked. "And down?"

"Not down," Treya said. "He's going to be lieutenant of payroll."

"I don't even know where payroll is," Glitsky said, "much less what they do."

"That's perfect," Hardy said. "You wouldn't want too many people working at jobs they know about."

"God forbid," Glitsky said. "And the great thing, as they so graciously explained to me, is that this is not a punishment. It's an opportunity to improve my resume. I spend maybe a year in payroll; then they promote me to captain at one of the stations. Couple of years there, next thing you know I'm a deputy chief."

"His lifelong dream," Treya added with heavy sarcasm.

Hardy knew what Treya meant. Glitsky had worked fourteen years in the department before he got to inspector sergeant at homicide, and then another eight before they promoted him to lieutenant of the detail. Abe didn't crave varied administrative experience. He wanted to catch murderers.

"Have you talked to Batiste?" Hardy asked. This was Frank Batiste, recently promoted to deputy chief. For many years, as Captain of Inspectors, he had been Glitsky's mentor within the department. "Maybe he could throw some juice."

But Glitsky shook his head. "Who do you think I talked to?"

Hardy frowned. "I thought he was your guy."

"Well…" Glitsky made a face.

Treya knew that her husband wasn't comfortable complaining about a colleague, so she helped him with it. "It seems like Frank's going through some changes himself."

"Like what?" Frannie asked.

"It's not Frank," Glitsky said. He wasn't going to let people bad-mouth another cop, even if there might be something behind it. "He's stuck, too. His wife hasn't sold a house in a year. They got kids in college. Times are not sweet."

"So he makes them bad for you, too? What's that about?"