She thought how nice it would be to have a friend like Panesa. Panesa thought how nice
it would be to go sailing with Hammer, or jet skiing, or do lunch or Christmas shopping
together, or just talk in front of the fire. Getting drunk was also a thought when, normally,
it was a big problem for the publisher of a nationally acclaimed newspaper or the chief of
a formidable police department. Hammer had overdone it with Seth now and then, but it
was pointless. He ate. She passed out.
Panesa had gotten drunk alone, which was worse, especially if he had forgotten to let the
dog back in.
Being drunk was a rarified form of beaming-out-of- here, and it was all about timing. It
was not something that Hammer ever discussed with anyone. Panesa did not, either.
Neither of them had a therapist at this time. This was why it was rather much a miracle
that the two of them, after three glasses of wine, got on the subject while someone from
US Bank was pontificating about economic incentives and development and company
relocations and the nonexistent crime rate in Charlotte. Panesa and Hammer hardly
touched the salmon with dill sauce. They switched to Wild Turkey. Neither of them
fully recalled receiving their awards, but all who witnessed it thought Hammer and
Panesa were animated, witty, gracious, and articulate.
On the way home, Panesa got the daring idea of tucking his car near Latta Park in
Dilworth, and playing tunes, and talking, with headlights out. Hammer was not in the
mood to go home. Panesa knew that going home was soon followed by getting up in the
morning and going to work. His career was not as interesting as it used to be, but he had
yet to admit this even to himself. His children were busy with involved lives. Panesa
was dating a lawyer who liked watching tapes of Court TV
and talking about what she would have done differently. Panesa wanted out.
“I guess we should go,” Hammer volunteered, about an hour into their sitting inside the dark Volvo and talking.
“You’re right,” said Panesa, who had a trophy in the back seat and an emptiness in his heart.
“Judy, I have to say something.”
“Please,” said Hammer.
“Do you have a friend or two you just have fun with?”
“No.”
“I don’t either,” Panesa confessed.
“Don’t you think that’s rather incredible?”
Hammer took a moment to analyze.
“No,” she decided.
“I never had a friend or two. Not in grammar school when I was better than everyone in
kick ball Not in high school, when I was good in math and the president of the student
body. Not in college. Not in the police academy, now that I think about it.”
“I was good in English,” Panesa thought back.
“And dodge ball I guess.
A president of the Bible Club one year, but don’t hold that against me. Another year on
the varsity basketball team, but horrible, fouled out the one game I played in when we
were forty points behind. ”
“What are you getting at, Richard?” asked Hammer, whose nature it was to walk fast and rush to the point.
Panesa was silent for a moment.
“I think people like us need friends,” he decided.
Vs9 West needed friends, too, but she would never admit this to Brazil, who was
determined to solve every crime in the city that night. West was smoking. Brazil was
eating a Snickers bar when the scanner let them know that any unit in the area of
Dundeen and Redbud might want to look for a dead body in a field. Flashlights cut across darkness, the sound of feet moving through weeds and grass, as Brazil and West
searched the dark. He was obsessed and managed to get ahead of West, his flashlight
sweeping. She grabbed him by the back of his shirt, yanking him behind her, like a bad
puppy.
“You mind if I go first?” West asked him.
^’ W Panesa stopped in Fourth Ward, in front of Hammer’s house, at twenty minutes past
one a. m.
“Well, congratulations on your award,” Panesa said again.
“And to you,” Hammer said, gripping the door handle.