Kelly finds Martin at the Coney Isle, where else, but at least Mac's not there. "You hang up on me just one more time mister and your balls are in a slingshot." Martin spins a matchbox on the counter. She takes a stool beside him. She waits. "If you're pissed at me because I got to this story before you did."

"I'm just fucking tired, that's all."

"Gayle's been trying to find you. She's worried. Did the guy from New Orleans call? Your editor friend?" Kelly waits. "Oh, I see, that's it."

"No, that's not it and the pay wouldn't have been good for New Orleans. Higher cost of living."

"Who lives? We go to work, we eat, and sometimes we get to sleep a little. You'll get an offer. Takes time. Might even happen to me."


She drops a slip of paper in front of him, a printed secretary's message form. A typical head-hunter's name and a number. "Representing guess who."

"And who's that?"

"Look at the area code." He does. "Atlanta," she mouths silently.


She smirks, half-ironically. "Yeah. I'll be on the network and you'll be here." They let it sit a while. "But it's probably some catch to it," she says.

"Hasn't stopped you before, ainh?" He avoids her glare. The Coney Island is quiet, spooky.

"Okay. Do you me this, then, a favor, brother. Who do you think killed the Reverend. It's been five days."

"Find the car first, there you have it."

"Can you believe that? It's still gone. There's nothing to go on," she tells Paletello, who doesn't seem to be otherwise involved in the conversation.

Two patrol officers enter and nod to Martin and Kelly, addressing Paletello. The one they're looking for this time is Jimmy Lee, and after inquiries learn that it has been a week or so since he's been in. In open conference the group discusses possible sources of his habitation; most probably in one of the abandoned hotels on North Grand.

Martin convinces Tom to sit a minute; he does eagerly, winking at Kelly. The immediate concern is a series of unsolved interstate murders. Jimmy Lee has been detained in Shreveport and Jackson before, and thus. Martin pushes him more; Tom plays the game. Nothing to do with Sarah, they've got the story on that one, but this one's not ready to get out yet.

"You talk to Glasseye?"

"We believe he had nothing to do with her case. Did you know the Reverend had just saved him?"

"Yes, I knew that. I watch television."

His sister, failing to contain a smirk. Paletello gives the officers coffee in takeout cups and they are gone. "Liars," Martin calls out.