There had been incidents in the past of cops partying just before they went on duty, then having fatal car crashes as they sped to work. Each time drinking was implicated as a factor in a tragedy involving cops, a lot of people went down. Supervisors were transferred, demoted, or lost their jobs. Now the possibility of scandal because a bunch of high-ranking cops had been drinking at the retirement party of a distinguished lieutenant who was murdered on the way home was not beyond possibility.

Dozens of friends only a few feet away and all too drunk to do anything to save him. Oh, it was so clear where Bill was headed.

"Sit down, Bill. I was there and you weren't. So you listen to me for a minute before you get yourself and everybody else in a flap. Okay?" Mike pointed at the chair. April could see how angry he was but knew that Bill could not.

Bill hesitated.

"I said, 'sit down.' Let's be civilized here," he said softly. "I'm not going to bite you."

"Fine. She was there, too; why doesn't she tell me what happened?" Bill took the chair Greg had vacated and looked to April.

April was not feeling so good. But her hair covered the lump on her head, and her turtleneck hid the bruises on her shoulder and neck. Maybe he didn't know what had happened to her.

"She can't," Mike said, real steel coming through in his voice for the first time. "She went after the guy. The bastard almost killed her. The man who killed your father is some kind of martial-arts expert."

Bill's mouth opened. "A what?" He stared at April, stunned. This bit of news hit a nerve.

Stony-eyed, she stared right back. She remembered that Bill happened to be a judo expert himself. Then her eyes went furry on her, and she took a little nap.