"How're you doing?" Bolinger asked. He was quite aware of the pain Sales had endured over the last year since his daughter's death. Working on the case against Lipton had brought the two men together on several occasions.

"You know, I'm getting along," Sales said without looking up from the stove. "I keep busy with work. I'm in a little lull right now, but it's been busy enough not to have too much time to think."

"Sometimes I wish I'd done something with my hands," Bolinger said. "Seems like it would be a hell of a deal to fall asleep at night because you're tired out from working with your hands… When I fall asleep, if I fall asleep, it's usually because my mind is burnt right down to the filter."

Without asking if Bolinger was staying for dinner, Sales took out two mismatched plates and split the fish. He slid a loaf of Italian bread out of a paper bag and cut off two thick slices before setting the plates down on the table. Without bothering to protest, Bolinger muttered a quiet thanks. After returning to the stove for his beer and some forks, Sales sat down across from the detective and asked, "What's up, Bob?"

After a pause in which he assessed Sales's eyes, Bolinger said, "Lipton was shot today."

Fierce hatred and delight burned brightly in Sales's pale eyes.

"Good," he said.

"He's not dead," Bolinger told him.

A look of consternation slowly bent the father's mouth into a sneer. After awhile he said, "That's too bad… Who did it?"

"I thought you might tell me," Bolinger shot right back.

Sales took a long pull on his beer before shaking his head and saying, "No, I didn't do it and I don't know who did.

"I wish I'd done it," he added, staring intently at Bolinger. "I wish I'd thought of it. It should have been me. And I wish whoever did it killed him."

Sales took up his fork and began to eat.

"It was pretty bloody," Bolinger said, following his host's lead. "He looked dead, took three slugs from a big gun at close range, blood all over the place. One in the shoulder, one through the chest just above the lungs, and one grazed off his rib cage without even breaking the bone. He'll be out in three or four days…"