I'm not sure who began to laugh first. Probably me. He looked so contrite.

"Let's start again. How very nice of you to drop by, Staff Sergeant. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"I just happened to be in the neighbourhood."

"Would it insult you if I said you are lying through your teeth?"

"I guess not. I came because I got a call telling me that three suspects had just arrived at your house. Why didn't you tell me they were coming when I talked to you?"

"Who called? The guy across the street?"

"Yes, Constable MacPherson."

"The boy scout from the ballpark the other day?"

"The very one."

"Why?"

"To keep an eye on you."

"Is this person going to follow me around? When did you plan to let me know?"

"I was going to tell you when I took you out for lunch."

"When you . . ."

"And that was going to be when I just happened to drop by around lunchtime."

He shrugged. I laughed.

"I give up."

"I'll pick you up at one."

Chapter 19.

Andy took me to Kuri, a Japanese restaurant on the fringes of trend heaven in Yorkville. One of my favourites. The owner greeted us both by name.

"You've been here before?" Andy was surprised.

"What, sports writers aren't supposed to like anything but hot dogs?"

"Come to think of it, not many policemen come here either."

"So you're a misfit in your profession, too. Welcome to the club."

The sushi bar was full, so Kuri led us to a small tatami room and took our orders himself, recommending the toro and hamachi as particularly fine. Andy ordered in Japanese.

"I spent a year in Tokyo in my twenties," he explained.

"What were you doing there?"

"At the time I said I was finding myself."

"And did you?"

"No, but I learned how to order in Japanese."

"Must come in handy."

I was a bit nervous. Was this a date? I decided to stick to business.

"Tell me how Sanchez died."

"Baseball bat, same as Thorson. One swing."

"Like a baseball swing? Or from overhead, like an axe?"

"A level swing to the head. Just over the right ear. He was hit from the front as he came into the bedroom."

"You figure someone was waiting for him?"

"Or hid there when he heard him come in. The bat was one of several Sanchez had in the room. I guess the guy just grabbed whatever was handy."

He popped an ikura sushi, salmon roe wrapped in seaweed, into his mouth and I thought of my grade-school etiquette lesson on dinner-table conversation. "Jane's cat was run over today" was not considered appropriate. I was glad Miss Bushell wasn't at lunch.

I tried to visualize it. If Sanchez had been hit on the right side of his head, the swinger, facing him, had to have been swinging left-handed.

"Was Thorson also hit on the right side of the head?"

"With Thorson, it wasn't one swing. It looks as if there was more of a struggle. The guy just caught Sanchez by surprise."

"Why a struggle?"

"There were bruises on Thorson's arms and body. We think he got knocked out near the equipment room and was then dragged to the shower room and finished off."

"Could you tell if the attacker was left- or right-handed?"

"Nothing conclusive. The blows seemed to come from all angles. It looked like whoever did it went a bit nuts."

"So the two murders were very different? Are you sure there weren't two murderers?"

"That's still a possibility."

"That's what I was talking with the guys about this morning. Thorson killing Sanchez because of the blackmail, then taking the material he found and trying to blackmail one of the others."

Andy busied himself with a paper-thin ginger slice and smiled.

"Right. It's none of my business."

"It is my business, but I prefer to talk about something more pleasant than murder over lunch."

"If you order us some eel, I promise to talk about anything but murder."

"You've got a touch of blackmail in your soul, too, Kate Henry."

While we ate, I did what I usually do when I'm a bit shy with someone new-I interviewed him.

"The last thing I thought I'd be when I was growing up was a cop, like my father. I didn't see much of him when I was a kid because he was always working, but I worshipped him. I never felt like I could live up to his expectations and I gave up trying when I was about thirteen. I went into serious adolescent rebellion."

"Most kids go through that."

"But most kids get a chance to outgrow it and make peace with their fathers. I never did. He was killed first."

"How old were you when he died?"

"Sixteen. My mother woke me up late one night to take me to the hospital. He'd been shot making an arrest. He was in a coma for three days before he died, so I never got a chance to speak to him again."

He took a sip of tea and looked embarrassed.

"Enough ancient history."

"So you decided then to become a cop. Sorry, policeman."

He smiled.

"I'm a cop. No. I went to Trent University-a general arts course-to see what I wanted to do. I mainly drank beer and tried to get laid and played in a terrible rock band. I dropped out, lived on a commune, hitchhiked around the country. Standard sixties stuff. Then I went to Japan. Do you really want to hear all this?"

"Absolutely."

"I taught English there and fell in love with one of my students. I thought I would stay forever. But that's hard, in Japan. Foreigners can only go so far inside their culture. So I left with a broken heart."

He laughed.

"Anyway, I came back with a stronger sense of who I was and what mattered to me. It was time to settle down. I went back to university, took a criminology course to fill in my schedule, and the rest . . ."

He shrugged.

"History," I said.

"Turns out I was very good at it and I liked it. It must be in the genes. So, within three years I was a cop, within four a husband, within six a father, and within ten, divorced."

He signalled for the bill.

"And that's the end of my tale."

"Or the beginning."

"True."

"And your mother?"

"Alive and well. And remarried."

"Don't tell me."

"Yes, to a cop. What else?"

He drove me to the office, down Yonge Street. I looked at the sleazy storefronts and desperate-looking people and wished I could see it all through his streetwise eyes. He'd probably arrested half of the characters we were passing. I decided that since lunch was over, I could get back to my favourite subject.

"What leads are you following now? Have you checked with bookies? Has anyone made any big bets on the playoffs since the murders? Maybe there's a clue there?"

"We have, but there's nothing big, here or in Las Vegas. The vice-squad guys checked with the local bookies. Some people connected with the team do bet. Bill Ramsay, the trainer, your friend Moose Greer, and a couple of the executives, but it's strictly football and basketball."

"It would have to be. What are you going to do about T.C.? He has to go back to school. Are you going to send a cop along with him?"

"No, he's going to stay out for the rest of the week. His teacher has given him some work to do and I've assigned a constable who is good at helping with homework. She's got kids of her own. We should have an arrest by next week and things can go back to normal."

"You think so?"

"Don't you? You haven't solved the case yet?"

"Well, there are still a few details to fill in."

"You'd better hurry."

"Do you really know?"

"I'm sorry, miss. I'm not at liberty to reveal that."

"You're just bluffing. If you knew, you'd have arrested him by now."

"Well, there are still a few details to fill in."

"Rat."

Laughing, he pulled up in front of the Planet building. "What time do you want to go to the ballpark? Donald MacPherson will pick you up."

"Oh, God, it's going to be so embarrassing being followed around by that guy. He's so officious."