Keith DeCandido: Four Walls

Flack always went there for aspirin and Band-Aids and condoms, only resorting to the chain drugstores when Alda didn't have something. When he got the scrip for the Percs, it wasn't even a choice in his mind: he gave the small piece of paper they'd handed him at the hospital to Sal Alda's cute daughter Vicki.

"Hey," she had said, "I heard you're the big hero."

"I wasn't a hero," he'd replied. "Just got caught in the blast. My buddy Mac, he's the one who found the nutjob who planted it."

"Phooey," Vicki had said back. "I saw your picture on the front page of the Daily News. That makes you a hero."

"Lindsay Lohan's on the front page of the Daily News. That doesn't make her a hero."

Today, it was Carmine Alda's daughter behind the counter. "Hello there, Detective Flack."

"Hiya, Ginny. How's Ty doin'?"

Ty Wheeler was Ginny's boyfriend. As always when Flack asked about him, she rolled her eyes. "He's such a dork. He actually bought me tickets to the Mets game Sunday for my birthday. Like I care about baseball. He just wants to see Pedro Martinez pitch."

"Pedro's on the disabled list," Flack said with a smile.

"What ever. Like I know from baseball. Maybe it's Roger Clemens."

"He's on the Yankees. So are you gonna go? 'Cause if not, I'll take your ticket."

She tilted her head, causing her blonde hair to fall to the side. "Very funny, Detective." She went to the back, where a shelf contained several large plastic boxes labeled with letters. One said E-F, and that was the one Ginny pulled out and started rummaging through, eventually pulling out a bag with a receipt attached to it. As she walked back to the front, she said, "This is, like, months old."

"Yeah-didn't go through 'em all that fast."

"Okay." She shrugged. "That's ten bucks for your co-pay."

He nodded, pulling out his wallet and handing over one of the funky new brown ten-dollar bills. "Here you go. Have fun at the game."

"Yeah, right. "

Grinning, Flack left the small pharmacy, pushing past an old woman in the too-skinny aisle.

He walked toward the lot where he paid stupid amounts of money to keep his car parked, since street parking in the city was insane. Some days Flack wanted to find the guy who invented alternate-side-of-the-street parking and beat him until he bled. He had to work triple OT just to keep up with the parking lot payments.

At least the pain wasn't that bad today.

As he walked, he pulled out his phone and flipped it open, then dialed Mac Taylor.

Mac answered on the third ring. "Morning, Don."

"Hey, Mac. Listen, I just wanted to tell you-thanks."

"For what?"

"For askin' about me and the Percs. I appreciate the concern, y'know?"

"No problem, Don."

"As it happens, I just refilled them. Oh, and let Sheldon know, will ya? I'd rather have both of you off my back."

Mac chuckled. "Listen, Don, after work today, Stella's organizing a little field trip. Want to come along?"

Flack shrugged. "Sure. Where to?"

"She said it's a surprise."

When Stella got to her desk, she found the usual large collection of e-mail waiting for her. Amidst the interdepartmental memos, the digests from the various listservs she subscribed to (most relating to the latest in forensic techniques; Mac had insisted that they all subscribe to them so they could keep up, but the signal-to-noise ratio was not optimal, which was why Stella stuck with the digests), and notes from friends was one from Jack Morgenstern.

"This should be good," she muttered. She had no idea how Morgenstern had gotten her work e-mail address; then again, it wasn't exactly a state secret, either.

There were no attachments, which relieved Stella. She would half expect Morgenstern to send her a virus, and in fact she ran her entire in-box through a virus scan before opening the e-mail.

Once that was done-it took a while, but Stella had to finish up the paperwork on the Campagna case in any event-she opened the e-mail.

Detective Bonasera:

I hope this e-mail finds you well. Yes, you read that right. I realize I came across as something of an ass, but look at it from my perspective. When you and Detective Angell rang my doorbell 1) you woke me out of a sound sleep and 2) I had no idea that Maria had been killed. And the goons at the 52nd Precinct didn't exactly endear me to the NYPD or your methods. Yes, I was defensive, but I'd been falsely accused of a particularly hideous crime based solely on the length of my hair. That's the sort of thing that makes you defensive.

However, all things considered, I don't blame you for suspecting me. Annie saw me go into Belluso's at closing. Of course, you'd look at me. I've boned up on what you do for a living since my false arrest, so I know that you guys do your job on the basis of where the evidence and the eyewitness accounts lead you. In this case, it led you to me.

I'm glad, however, that you and Detective Angell kept an open mind. You examined the evidence, and when it didn't point right at me (nor should it have, since I didn't actually do anything), you looked elsewhere-and found your killer.

Everybody wins.

You two have filled me with a respect for the NYPD that I didn't have a week ago, Detective Bonasera, and I thank you for that. I hope the next time we meet, if we ever do, it's under more pleasant circumstances.

All the best,

Jack Morgenstern

Stella stared blankly at the screen for several seconds. That was entirely the last thing she had expected.

It took her a few moments to realize her phone was ringing. Pulling it out of her pocket, she saw that it was Angell.

"Hey, Jen."

"I just got the craziest e-mail."

Stella laughed. "Let me guess-Morgenstern?"

"Yeah. You got one, too?"

"Yup."

"God, Stell, I thought he was gonna ask me out on a date, the way the letter was going."

Again, Stella laughed. "I don't think he's come around quite that much."

"Even if he has, I haven't. The man flirts with teenagers."

"Hey, listen, Jen, while I've got you here-you doing anything when your shift is over?"

"Was gonna finally get my bangs trimmed, but do you have a better offer?"

"Kind of," Stella said with a grin.

As soon as he entered Belluso's Bakery, Mac understood why Stella had been eager to come back here to people-watch. Yes, she wanted to see if she could find another lead to Maria Campagna's killer, but her desire to be in this place went beyond that.

The place was bright and cheerful, even as night was falling over the Bronx. Colorful pastries, cookies, and cakes filled the two long display units. An old-fashioned cappuccino maker sat atop the counter, along with the usual assortment of straws, stirrers, plastic silverware, and napkins.

Most of the tables and chairs were occupied. Looking at Stella and then at their party-which numbered seven-Mac said, "I'm not sure we fit."

"Upstairs," Stella said, heading toward the wooden staircase in the center of the floor that led to the balcony-style second level. "Get me a cappuccino and a large cannoli while I set up, okay?"

One of the women behind the counter looked at Angell. "Hey, Detective-Angell, right?"

"Yup," Angell said with a smile. "And you remember Detective Monroe, right?"

Lindsay smiled and gave a small wave. She was, Mac noticed, standing very close to Danny. "You're Jeanie?"

Jeanie nodded. "Decided to bring the whole crew, huh?"

"Most of it," Lindsay said with a look at Mac.

Mac just shrugged. Both Sid and Peyton had been invited by Stella, along with Sheldon, Danny, Lindsay, Flack, Angell, and Mac himself. But Sid had plans with his family, and Peyton had to work the late shift. "We'll talk tomorrow, though," she had said, and Mac had sworn that he saw a twinkle in her eye when she'd said that.