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“What soured you on the cops?” Fenster asked when the valet departed.

“Doin’ my job.”

“That’s what got me too. Feels like you got to live a whole life just to figure out what’s right. And by then it’s too late.”

After that we sipped our forty-year-old shots of Laphroaig scotch and talked about bad times that were, at least, over.

Instead of going to bed, I called Roger Ferris’s pilot and told him that I’d like to fly to New York.

“When?” asked Marcus Fry, one of four full-time pilots whom Roger employed.

“The sooner the better.”

“I’ll meet you at the Burbank Airport in forty-five.”

“Hello?” Leaf answered on the second ring. “Joe?”

“Hey.” I was in a taxi, headed for Burbank.

“You back?”

“Flying in today.”

“Okay. Can I do anything for you?”

“No, no. I just wanted to call. What you up to?”

“I put flowers on Andrew’s grave and dropped by to see your dad.”

“How’s he?”

“He wanted to go out on a date with me.”

“That’s my dad.”

“I told him I might not mind datin’ two men who knew each other, but I had to draw the line at father and son.”

10.

I SLEPT FOR the whole flight, and then in my own bed till late in the night. The only reason I woke up was the phone making the sound of robins’ song.

“Hey.”

“I thought you were comin’ in the afternoon.”

“Yeah. I fell asleep.”

“How’s Brenda?”

“Fine. Doctors say she’s gonna outlive me.”

“The way you live, that ain’t no news.”

I laughed and sat up.

“Where you at?” I asked.

“Standin’ at the door.”