“‘Lieutenant Slyman told me that he thought you were seriously hurt.’ She took hold of his hand between hers and kissed his fingertips. Conor said, ‘Sorry. Pastrami flavor.’ It was 1:05. They were sitting at a table in back of Stars Deli on Lexington Avenue. It was hot and busy. The counter was crowded with office workers ordering turkey and liverwurst and salt beef sandwiches, so that they could eat their lunch on the benches and walls around the Citicorp Center. Signed photographs of movie and... theater stars hung on every wall. Conor had bought himself pastrami on rye but Stars’ sandwiches were three inches thick and it hurt him to open his jaws so wide. Apart from that, his appetite wasn’t improved by the awareness that he could be whacked without warning, at any moment, by a cop, by one of his own kind. A bullet in the head, no witnesses, no questions asked. He was still police, whatever had happened. He had been born police. But now his family had cast him out, and all they wanted was his blood.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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