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When I pulled it out, blood spurted from the wound. It was horrible. I lost my sense of reason.” He seemed sincere. And scared.
    I thought it over. “I’ll find the killer for you,” I offered.
    “Why?” he asked incredulously.
    The money.The curiosity. The glitter of it all. “I hate to see an innocent man railroaded for a murder he didn’t commit.” And Jack was right. I didn’t mind going up against Falcone. A chick detective. My first. “But if Ameleth is guilty, no special treatment.”
    Jack and I agreed to meet at my Times Square office the next afternoon. That’d give me a chance to tell Alex Beaudine, my partner and former live-in flame, what happened. It’d also give me a chance to examine the knife more closely. I got a vibe. A sudden flash of ken that told me this was too big—that if I didn’t walk away, my life will change forever. Whenever I get that feeling, I usually do walk away—about a week later with lots of money in my pocket. The higher the risk, the bigger the potential gain. Or loss. But I never lose, I reminded myself quickly.
    I told Jack I knew a good all-night liquor store in the neighborhood. He looked pretty bad for the healthiest man I’d ever met. He shook his head. “Thanks, but I want to be alone,” he said solemnly. “I’ll just go for a run.” And on this note, he hopped off like a big rabbit. His lithe legs carried him quickly, and he disappeared down the dark street in a few seconds. I checked my watch: 2:00 A.M. The night was still young. I went in search of a belt (of tequila) and a burrito.
    I found both. I had to go into Manhattan to get them. I ended up taking the subway in the middle of the night after all. Knowing the knife was in my purse .4 was strangely comforting. I didn’t have to use it once. ?
    I made it home by four. I splurged on a cab back to Brooklyn. My street was dark at that hour. Most of the other streets in America were, too. I entered my new resident brownstone (which was pretty much like my f old brownstone in Park Slope), and quietly unlocked my second-floor apartment door. Otis dashed outside as soon as I opened it. The faint waft of cat piss snuck up my nostrils. Have I mentioned that my cat had developed a slight bladder control problem? Max, I who despised Otis, insists she was doing it out of spite or because she hated Syd, Max’s tabby. I think Otis acted out of jealousy: She just didn’t like Max’s spending more time in my lap than she did.
    So Otis ran out into the hall. I let her go. Some lonely time in the stuffy hallway might make her think ' twice before she squatted on my carpet again. I adore her, but even I didn’t want my apartment smelling like the F train.
    The light from the hallway made a wedge of yellow in the blackness of my living room. I pushed the door wide open and took a step inside. I closed the door behind me. I breathed in the darkness. Just as I reached for the light switch, a sticky palm covered my mouth. Another flew over my breast, lifting me off my feet.
    “Oh, Wanda. It’s you,” Max said from behind me, dropping me. He sounded relieved. “Where the fuck have you been?” His anger caught up.
    I punched the light switch. My knees were shaking a little. I had no idea Max was so powerful. I guess that’s what you get from working out at the gym. My heart was racing. I took a few deep breaths and said, “I’m very turned on. Let’s go do it.”
    “We’ll get to that. I want to know where you’ve been.” He kissed me on the mouth. It was all tenderlike. He leaned back and said, “You know you’re in big trouble with me.”
    “Trouble is my business.”
    “Then you’ve brought your work home.” Max led me by the elbow to the EIK (eat-in kitchen). He sat me down at the table (seats six). He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a doughnut with pink icing and multicolored sprinkles. He placed it on the table in front of me. I studied it. Admired it,
    “Look at that,” I said.