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“Is that what you call them, ‘uniforms’?”

Matt cupped his hand behind his ear, signaling he was waiting to hear ‘thank you.’ ”

She smiled.

“Okay, thank you. Now answer the question.”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that a little condescending?”

“Not at all. It’s simply an identifying term.”

“I have trouble picturing you in a policeman’s uniform.”

“I’m dashing. Within a two-mile circle, girlish hearts flutter,” Matt said, and then added, “Actually, I’ve hardly worn my uniform.”

“How’s that?”

“I went, right out of the Academy, to a plainclothes job.”

“How did you arrange that?”

“It was arranged for me. My father has friends in high places, one of whom believed—with my father—at the time that I would quickly come to my senses, resign from the cops, and go to law school. My father’s friend, he’s a chief inspector, arranged for me to be assigned as the administrative assistant—sort of a secretary in pants—to Inspector Peter Wohl. The idea was that in this manner, until I came to my senses, I would not get myself hurt.”

“But you didn’t resign. Why not? Why are you a cop in the first place?”

“Why are you a social worker? That doesn’t look like much fun to me, and I would be surprised if the pay’s any better.”

“I’m doing something important.”

“The police are important. Try to imagine life without us.”

“I don’t have to shoot people,” Susan said.

Shooting people is a no-no, right? But blowing them up—or at least aiding and abetting those who do—is OK, right?

“I only shoot people who are trying to shoot me,” Matt said. “Or run me over with a truck.”

“Is that what happened?”

“That’s what happened.”

“Did it bother you to have taken someone’s life?”

Be careful what you say here, Matthew. Think before you open your mouth. I think the answer here is going to be important.

“Well, did it?” Susan asked, somewhat impatiently.

“I got psychiatric advice,” Matt said.

“You went to a shrink?”

“My big sister is a shrink. She came to me.”

“And?”

The waiter appeared with the wine and a plate holding crackers and a triangular lump of Roquefort cheese. While the waiter opened the bottle, Matt put cheese on half a dozen crackers.

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