Most, maybe.

Baker? Hardy wasn’t so sure.

“So he’s out?”

Ingraham pulled his cuff back and checked his watch. Hardy wasn’t positive, but it looked to be a hell of a Rolex. “If they’re on time, in about two hours.”

“How’d you hear about it?”

“I got a friend in Paroles. He called me. And I checked with the warden at the House. Nobody’s meeting him at the gate. Who would? Supposedly taking the bus back to town.”

Hardy whistled. “You have checked.”

“The guy got my attention.”

“So what are you going to do?”

His old office mate sipped at his drink. “What can you do? Something’s gonna get us all. Maybe lock up more carefully.”

“Did you ever pack?”

Ingraham shook his head. “That’s for you cops. We gentlemen who believe in the rule of law are supposed to have no need for that hardware.”

Hardy had come up to the D.A.’s office after a tour in Vietnam and several years on the police force. Ingraham had come up through Stanford, then Hastings Law School.

“You planning to debate with Louis Baker?”

“I’m not planning on seeing the man.”

“What if he comes to see you?”

“I called the warden after I got the word. He says Louis has been a model inmate, has found the Lord, gets max time off for good behavior. I’ve got nothing to worry about. Neither of us do. Evidently.”

Hardy leaned across the bar. “Then why are you here?”

Ingraham’s smile finally caught. “Because it sounds like a heap of bullshit to me.” He leaned back on the barstool. “I thought it might not be a bad idea to stay in touch for a couple of weeks, you and me.”

Hardy waited, not getting it.

“I mean, call each other every day at the same time, something like that.”

“What would that do?”

“Well, hell, Diz, we’re not going to get police protection. Nobody’s gonna put a tail on Louis to see if he heads for our neighborhoods. This way, if one of us doesn’t call, at least we have some clue. One of us bites it, maybe, but the other one is warned.”