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enjoying the game.
    “Let’s see… Julia Roberts?”
    “Not that interesting.”
    “I lose,” Noah sighed, hands up.
    “Placa. Said she wanted to meet me Sunday. Six o’clock. Behind Saint Michael’s.”
    “S’up with that?”
    “Don’t know. Kinda odd though, don’t you think?”
    Ike bent an ear to the conversation and interrupted, “You said Placa wants to see you?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What for?”
    “No clue. Said she had to show me something and would I be there or not? I said sure and asked her what it was about but she said I had to promise not to tell anyone. Then she whispered something — I couldn’t hear what she said — and hung up, like she didn’t want to get caught talking to me.”
    Noah’s face clouded.
    “Think she’s in trouble with this Estrella thing?”
    “Maybe. Seemed like something was buggin’ her the other day, but you know Placa. Stoic.”
    Ike asked, “What else did she say?”
    “That was it. Like she was rushed.”
    “Maybe it’s a set-up,” Ike said.
    “Why me? For what?”
    “Want me to go with you?” he offered.
    “No. It’s at the church. That’s a pretty neutral zone. Probably wants to drop a dime on somebody.”
    “Placa?” Noah said dubiously. “Since when’s she calling us to do her dirty work?”
    “We’ll see,” Frank shrugged. Ike started to say something but Noah called out, “Hey-hey! Look who’s here.”
    Heads at the Nine-three table swiveled to watch Gail Lawless snake her way toward them.
    “Who’s dead?” Nook grumbled and Johnnie cried, “Well, hell! If it ain’t Doc Law.”
    “Don’t pay any attention to ‘em,” Noah ordered, waving her into the seat he’d wedged between himself and Frank. He shouted, “Gin ‘n tonic for you, Doc?”
    She nodded and Frank watched the coroner taking in the faces around the table. Frank studied Gail’s almond-shaped eyes. They had an almost Asian cast but were set in a distinctly western, rawboned face. When they settled on Frank, they sparkled.
    “Hi,” Gail smiled.
    “Hey. Thought we’d scared you off.”
    “I figured my hair wasn’t long enough to set on fire,” she smirked. “Besides, how could I resist the tall tales?”
    Diego was telling a story about an interview he and Ike had done. Their wit was an old lady and her dead husband, who she assured the detectives, was right next to her on the couch. Diego would ask a question, and she’d say she wasn’t sure. The old lady would turn to her husband and ask what he thought. Then she’d look at the detectives and smile as if they’d heard the answer too. Diego finally got the hang of it, and asked the lady to repeat the husband’s answers, “on account of my partner and me being so deaf from all the gun battles we’ve been in.”
    She was a great witness, even they couldn’t put her on the stand because she was loony-toons. Diego made small talk as they left and she complained about making dinner for her husband. He insisted on supper at six o’clock, but he never ate a thing anymore. She always ended up scraping his plate into the garbage can.
    “After that,” Diego rapped on the table, “Every night, six sharp, Ike was at her door.”
    “That’s like the old lady I had when I was still in uniform,” Johnnie said launching into his own story.
    Nancy plunked a tall glass in front of Gail and swept up an empty pitcher. Noah kept interrupting Johnnie’s story, showing off for the ladies at the table, and Nook grumbled interjections. Taking in conversations from other tables, monitoring the mood of the bar and her own detectives, Frank tested the atmosphere like a wild animal, too sober to let her guard down. She didn’t anticipate trouble, but was ready for it. Part of that was her natural character; part of it was too many years as a cop.
    For a moment, Frank gave the coroner her full attention. She seemed to be having a good time and when the boot at the other end of the table asked Gail the trickiest case