"All right, all right," he interrupted. "Let's not go into that again. We couldn't find a body, so you're free. Now what's this about financing the two of us?"
I put my fingers around his arm and steered him out to the street.
"This city has never had a worse cop than you," I said. "Why? Because you're an actor, not a cop. You're going back to acting, Lou. This money will keep us both going until we get a break."
He gave me the slit-eyed look he'd picked up in line of duty. "That wouldn't be a bribe, would it?"
"Call it a kind of memorial to a lot of poor, innocent old people and a sick, tormented woman."
We walked along in silence out in the clean sunshine. It was our silence; the sleek cars and burly trucks made their noise and the pedestrians added their gabble, but a good Stanislavsky actor like Lou wouldn't notice that. Neither would I, ordinarily, but I was giving him a chance to work his way through this situation.
"I won't hand you a lie, Mark," he said finally. "I never stopped wanting to act. I'll take your deal on two considerations."
"All right, what are they?"
"That whatever I take off you is strictly a loan."
"No argument. What's the other?"