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the gym with you in the next week or so.”
    “Don’t leave it too long, sir,” Blaak warned as he left.
    Alone again, Mann sat behind his desk trying to decide what to do first. He poked at a stack of paperwork, almost hoping it would topple off his desk into the garbage can. God save him from paperwork and get him back on the street. The warm spring weather was making him restless. Maybe that was what had got into Dani this morning. He grinned at the pleasing memory. The smile quickly faded as he opened the first file.

Chapter 6

    Mann slid into the booth and reached across the table to shake hands with Buchanan. “Thanks for taking time for me, Alf.”
    Buchanan shrugged. “I had to eat. I figured that you might have some questions that the report didn’t cover – no offense to Kydd. She carried herself well and her voice is incredible.”
    “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
    “Bullshit. How’s that redhead terror doing? She still putting up with you or was it just temporary insanity?”
    “She’s just fine, thanks. How’s...”
    The waitress interrupted Mann and they both ordered. As usual, Buchanan’s order was full of calories, grease, and cholesterol. Mann tried for a salad and a Pepsi. He ignored Buchanan’s questioning look and continued after the waitress left.
    “How’s Gretchen?”
    “Gretchen? Oh, Gretchen. I haven’t seen her in two weeks or more. I’m seeing a secretary from The Hill. We are going to go sailing in the summer.”
    “If it lasts that long.” The old man amazed Mann. A widower who had desperately loved his wife, he had not wasted any time becoming active again. However, he didn’t, as he put it, waste his time with young women. He much preferred mature women. According to him, they were more appreciative. He didn’t bother with a woman unless she remembered that there had been another Bush in the White House.
    “I heard they pulled the marina shooting. SOCU grab it? Got you pissed off?”
    “I haven’t shot anyone yet. What the hell, as long as somebody puts that Italian bastard away.”
    An older lady at the next table looked over and said something to the woman she was with. They both looked over again. Mann just stared back until the waitress came between them. When she left, the women had returned to their meal.
    Mann pushed his salad around the plate. After sampling some of the cottage cheese, he reached across and speared one of Buchanan’s fries. “What did you find when you opened the boy up?”
    Mann’s voice was just loud enough to carry to the next table. Buchanan glanced sideways and spoke at the same volume.
    “First, what we didn’t find. No major amount of drugs in his system, just trace amounts marijuana and cocaine. He wasn’t high when he died. From the amounts, I would say he was in complete control of his faculties. As much as he probably ever was, anyway.”
    “Was there any evidence of homosexual activity?”
    “None that I could see. No recent sexual activity as far as the boy is concerned. Rectum was normal, no signs of prolonged homosexual activity. I would say that the kid was either not active or straight and he tested negative for AIDS.”
    Mann heard the intake of breath from the table beside and smiled. “So it wasn’t a gay bashing?”
    “Straights have been bashed as gays before. There was even a case where a man and his wife – she had short hair and small breasts – were attacked as gays. Gabel was slight, longish hair, bit of a twink, I suppose. However, I don’t have much faith in that explanation. For one thing, the beating wasn’t severe, except for the head wounds. And that was definitely postmortem. Usually, you see more damage with a gay bashing.”
    “Was this a gang killing?”
    Buchanan gave up and shoved his plate of fries between him and Mann. “If it was, it was one of the strangest on record. He died from a blow to the back of the head. No knife wounds, not much bruising, nothing that would suggest that he