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NYPD for lack of progress in solving the murder.
    Acting Chief of Detectives Suarez was quoted as saying that the Department was investigating several “promising leads,” and “significant developments” were expected shortly.
    Which was, as Delaney well knew, police horse shit for “We ain’t got a thing and don’t know where to turn next.”
    The two officers arrived a little after noon, lugging four cartons tied with twine. Delaney led them directly into the study, where they piled the boxes in a high stack. Then they all had a chance to shake hands, grinning at each other. The two cops were wearing mufti, and Delaney took their anoraks and caps to the hall closet. They were still standing when he returned to the study.
    “Sit down, for God’s sake,” he said. “Sergeant, I saw you ten days ago, so I know how you are. Monica’s out with Rebecca today, by the way, spending our money. Jason, I haven’t seen you in-what’s it been?-almost two years.
    Don’t tell me you’ve lost some weight?”
    “Maybe a few pounds, sir. I didn’t think it showed.”
    “Well, you’re looking great. Family okay?”
    “Couldn’t be better, thank you. My two boys are sprouting up like weeds. All they talk about is basketball.”
    “Don’t knock it,” Delaney advised. “Good bucks there.”
    The two officers didn’t ask any questions about what the deal was and what they were doing there-and Delaney knew they wouldn’t. But he felt he owed them a reason for their presence.
    Briefly, he told them that Acting Chief of Detectives Suarez had more on his plate than he could handle, and Deputy Commissioner Thorsen had asked Delaney to help out on the Ellerbee homicide because the Department was getting so much flak from the victim’s widow and father-both people of influence.
    Delaney said nothing about the cutthroat ethnic and political wars being waged in the top ranks of the NYPD. Boone and Jason seemed to accept his censored explanation readily enough.
    “Sergeant,” Delaney said, “you’ll assist in my investigation and liaise with Suarez’s crew. Remember, he’s in command; I’m just a civilian consultant. Jason, you’ll be here, there, everywhere you’re needed. These are temporary assignments. If the case is cleared, or I get bounced, the two of you go back to your regular duties. Okay?”
    “Suits me just fine,” Jason Two said.
    “It’ll be a vacation,” Sergeant Boone said. “Working just one case.”
    “Vacation, hell!” Delaney said. “I’m going to run your ass off. Now the first thing the three of us are going to do is go through all the paper on the Ellerbee kill. We’ll read every scrap, look at every photo. We’ll take a break in an hour or so.
    I’ve got some sandwiches and drinks. Then we’ll get back to it until we’ve emptied the cartons. Then we’ll sit around and gas and decide what we do first.”
    They set to work, opening the cartons, piling the photocopied documents on Delaney’s desk. He read each statement first, then handed it to Boone, who scanned it and passed it along to Officer Jason. Most of the stuff was short memos, and those went swiftly. But the Medical Examiner’s postmortem and the reports of the Crime Scene Unit were longer and took time to digest.
    Delaney smoked another cigar, and the two cops chain smoked cigarettes. The study fogged up, and Delaney rose to switch on an exhaust fan set in the back window. But there was no conversation; they worked steadily for more than an hour. Then they broke for lunch. Delaney brought in a platter of sandwiches he’d prepared earlier and cans of Heineken for Jason and himself. Abner Boone had a bottle of club soda.
    Delaney parked his feet up on his desk.
    “Jason,” he said, “you did a hell of a job keeping clear of those wet tracks on the carpet.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “I think your report covered just about everything. Nothing you left out, was there?”
    “Nooo,” the officer said slowly, “not to