When Cassandra saw her brother pull up in front of the Norfifth Apartments just after midnight she scurried from the front stoop into the big Checker.  "Thank god," she said, teeth chattering.  "It's freezing out here!"
     "Thanks a lot," said Lopez.  "You know I've had a long fuckin' day—  "
     "You didn't have to come."
     "Nice touch, tellin' me you're comin' over here and then hangin' up."
     "Well, I decided."
     Lopez looked at her, frowning.  "Like I'm gonna get a lot of sleep knowin' you're over here with the cast of ‘America's Most Wanted.'"
     Cassandra blew into her hands.  "I lived in worse places than this."
     "Hah!  When were you in Calcutta?"
     She spun toward him.  "Look!  I'm worried, alright?"
     Lopez took a breath.  "Cassandra, listen to me," he said.  "I told you.  I only saw the guy for a second.  He was wearin' a mask and a scarf, and he didn't say anything.  It coulda been anybody."
     "You would've known, though, wouldn't you?  If it was Rom?"
     "I just don't know.  It all happened in a second!"
     She stopped rubbing her hands together and started ransacking her purse. "Gimme a cigaret, willya?"
     Lopez lit Cassandra's cigaret and then his own.  "Anyway, who says he has to come home?" he said.   "Maybe he's at a show, you know.  Maybe he found somethin' to do over there.  It's New York, fer chrissake!"
     "I talked to him at lunchtime, Hector.  He was going to do some errands and take a train back.  It doesn't take 10 hours to run a couple errands!"
     "Yeah, you said.  What did he have to do?"
     "All I know is, he had an appointment at some clinic.  Something for his trip.  Shots and stuff."
     They smoked quietly for a minute..
     "So how's the mayor?" said Cassandra.
     "She's OK.  Took a slug in the side but missed the vital organs.  Bled a lot, though. The ambulance was waiting in Staten Island, and they took ‘em to St. Vincent's."
     "What did they find out about the guy who did it?"
     "Cab driver.  Former mental patient at Bellevue.  When we docked, it took awhile for the cops to figure out it was his cab blocking the lower deck.  Lotta honking."
     "I think I've had that cab driver.  But why was he taking the ferry at rush hour?"
     Lopez shrugged.  "Mental patient, remember?"
     "I guess.  What about Melody?"
     "Same bullet kept going and broke her arm."
     "Sheesh.  Lucky."
     "Yeah, but she was freaked.  They had to sedate her."  He took a drag.  "I still haven't talked to her."  He exhaled.  "And it's just as well."
     "What do you mean?"
     He looked at her.  "On the ferry she started asking questions about Rom, and how well I knew him, and shit like that.  I think she knows."
     "Did she say that?"
     "I've seen that look before.  She smells a story."
     "How could she recognize him?  She only met him once, right?   At the firehouse."
     "That was enough, I guess."
     "God, what a mess."
     A small group of young black men passed, silently scrutinizing the big car and its occupants.  "How long are we gonna wait here?" Lopez said.
     "Just a little longer. OK?"
     Lopez sighed and rubbed his eyes.  "It's been a long day, Cassandra.  I was up before dawn, and I had to follow the mayor around all day, and then Melody gets herself shot, so now I'm drivin' all over Staten Island, and— "
     "You know," she interrupted quietly, "if you think about it, it's unlikely that guy on the ferry was Rom.  I mean, I got the impression talking to him today that he was through with the vigilante business."
     Lopez looked out the window.  Cassandra continued.
     "And anyway, you guys were all over New York today, and I'm sure he didn't follow the mayor around, or Melody.  Right?  I mean, he didn't just show up on a Staten Island ferry, you know?  How could he possibly know where you were going?"
     She looked over at her brother, who was still looking out the window.
     "What?" she said.  He didn't move.  "What is it, Hector?"
     He considered telling her about the message left for him at the station: Someone had phoned for him at four o'clock, someone who knew him when he was called "Hector," someone who sounded a little drunk.  Someone who was told he'd be on the ferry at six.
     "Hector, what is it?"
     After a moment he nodded toward a dull gray Datsun parked across No. Fifth Street.  "That his car?"
     Cassandra looked.  "Yeah.  It's just where we left it this morning."
     "We?"
     "Yeah, we came here so he could get dressed.  His black stuff."
     Lopez now turned to face her in the front seat.  "Where did you see him this morning?"
     "He stayed over last night, and when we heard Howard and— "
     "You're bangin' him, aren't ya?"
     Cassandra frowned.  "No. What's the difference?  He stayed one night last week, too.  It was late."
     "Are you bangin' this guy, Cassandra?  What is it with you two?"
     Cassandra mashed out her cigaret angrily.  "Wait a minute!" she yelled.  "Who says I can't bang whoever the hell I want, anyway?"
     "Oh, I don't know.  How about the fuckin' pope?  Remember him?  Rom's boss?"
     "Hey, do I tell you who to bang?  God only knows who you're banging!"
     "Oh, here we go again!" yelled Lopez.  "It's OK for you to sleep around, but god forbid I should— "
    The rap on the car's roof silenced him and made Cassandra jump.  Now a voice came from near the passenger side.  "Do you wanna keep it down out here?"  They turned to see who it was.  A puzzled-looking Rom was peering into the window, and his words came in little bursts of vapor.  "What the hell are you guys doing here?"