Glitsky tipped up his club soda, sucked in a small ice cube, chomped it, looked across at Hardy. "Lanier"-the current head of homicide-"is retiring, you know."

"Nobody's that dumb," Hardy said.

"What's dumb? I'd retire myself if I could afford it."

But Hardy was shaking his head. "I'm not talking about Lanier," he said. "I'm talking about you."

"I'm not retiring."

"No, I know. What you're doing is thinking about asking Batiste to put you back in homicide. Isn't that right?"

"And here I thought I was being subtle."

"You and a train wreck." Hardy sipped some beer. "You talk to Treya about this?"

"Of course."

"What's she say?"

"You'll just do that eye-rolling thing you do, but she says whatever makes me happy makes her happy." At Hardy's reaction, he pointed. "There you go, see?"

"I can't help it," Hardy said. "It's eye-rolling material. Have you talked to Batiste?"

"Not yet. He did me a favor making me deputy chief. I don't want to seem ungrateful."

"Except that you are."

"Well, I've already put in three years there and it's not getting any better."

"And homicide would be?"

Glitsky moved his glass in a little circle of condensation. "It's who I am more. That's all. It's why I'm a cop."

FINALLY GETTING TO the reason they'd come out in the first place.

"It's just so different," Hardy said. "I mean, two years ago, I've got two kids and a wife waiting for me when I come home. We're playing Scrabble around the kitchen table, for Christ's sake. Watching videos together."

"If memory serves, you couldn't wait for that to end. It was so boring."

"Not that boring. And even last year, the Beck's off at BU but at least Vince was still around at home and we'd give a nod to a family dinner a few times a week. Now he's in San Diego and Frannie's a working fool and…it's just so different."