“Eleven thou…,” Greg began.

“He’s joking,” said Winn.

“I’m not good at jokes. I’m making a point. What would you pay for your friend to be found innocent?”

“Five hundred dollars a week plus expenses,” said Greg. “We can get lots of people to contribute. My grandfather could write a check for four thousand and not miss it.”

“That’s comforting,” I said.

“It is to Ronnie,” said Greg. “I’ve got cash.”

I let the bills he took out of his pocket rest on the edge of the desk.

“It goes back to you after I talk to your friend,” I said, “if I’m not happy with his answers to my questions.”

“Then you’ll find the killer?”

“Then I’ll try to find Rachel Horvecki.”

“And the killer,” said Greg.

“And the killer,” I agreed.

I got a paper brown paper bag from the counter and carefully placed coffees and biscotti inside and then neatly folded the top over before cradling it against my chest. The heat was lulling. I had told the two boys that I wanted to be alone to think and that I’d make it back to my place on my own. Greg wanted to say a lot more. Winn guided him out of the News and Books.

Normally, I would have turned the possible job down with thanks for the refreshments, but I could use the money. I was moving. It didn’t cost much but there were things I needed and my bike wanted repair. The number of court papers to serve for my lawyer clients was down for the summer. The snowbirds who came down to their condos, homes, and rentals wouldn’t be back to engage in and be the victims of crime for at least three months. There were fewer criminals being brought to justice or just being hauled before a judge for not paying child support. I didn’t need much, didn’t want much, but now I had Victor Woo to feed and a weekly dinner out with Sally Porovsky and her two kids at Honey Crust Pizza, which would eventually present a challenge even if Sally and I split the bill. And though I was a project for my therapist, Ann Hurwitz, I still had to pay something each time I saw her, even if it was only ten dollars.