"What?"
"A guy singing. Over the radio."
Ferraro shook his head. He pulled over and they listened. Routine police calls squawked from the speaker. Kleiber frowned. "No, this was singing. It—there!" Faintly behind the official monotone they heard a man's voice singing. "You know who that sounds like? Van Richie."
"Van Richie? Come on. He's dead."
"Could be a record. Anyway, he ain't dead. He made a movie here a while back."
"Ten years ago."
"Yeah, but he ain't dead."
"He isn't singing on the radio, either."
Kleiber stared at the radio. The singing had faded out. Ferraro eased the car back into the stream of traffic and his thoughts back to Patricia Ann. They were interrupted again as he drove past the Garden. "I tell you," Kleiber said, "that was Van Richie."