Page 32 of The Watchmaker's Hand

“‘Devouted’? Didn’t read my statementthatcarefully, I guess.”

“And they misspelled ‘it’s’ and ‘obscene.’”

Cody asked, “How’d you find it?”

“A cheating website.”

He frowned. “Ashley Madison? That dating thing for married men?”

Spencer had to laugh. “Cheating on term papers. A professor uploads a student’s work and the software looks for previous published writing to see if he stole any of it. Or if a chatbot wrote it.”

Cody nodded. “I used ChatGPT to write a speech for me. It wasn’t bad.”

A large, somber man wearing a black suit stepped into the area. “Sir. The Alliance?”

“I’ll be right down.” The makeup was nearly gone. Cody examined his face, wet a paper towel and finished the job. “Detective, have to ask: Using one’s own public quotation in an extortion note? Doesn’t that seem pretty stupid?”

Spencer shrugged. “Are you in touch with affordable housing activists? From your website’s position paper, I’d think you have to be.”

“You want me to ask about this group?”

“Would you?”

“I will.”

Spencer handed him a card. The politician pocketed it.

Cody said, “When did you get here today?”

“Twenty-five minutes ago. Thirty.”

“So you missed my pledge to introduce federal legislation that would guarantee affordable housing to families making fifty thousand a year or less.”

Oh.

“I’m not avoiding the issue, Detective. I guess what I’d say is: so many problems, so little time.”

13.

“WATCH THAT PHALANX.”

Ron Pulaski waited, tilting his head slightly.

Lon Sellitto explained by pointing. A flock or a gaggle—or, apparently, aphalanx—of pigeons was headed their way fast. A naïve—some would say idiotic—tourist was tossing seed on the ground nearby.

They were in the square outside of One PP, where they’d met, and were on their way to Maggie’s, a New York diner in the old-school mold. A feeding trough for cops.

“What is a phalanx, exactly?” the younger officer asked as the two continued along the sidewalk.

“Greek for ‘shitload.’”

“If I’m ever onJeopardy!that might help.”

“Rachel and me? We play trivia. We compete. A bar. You?”

“No.”

Sellitto pushed the door open. “Keeps your mind active. Until you have a beer. Then it deactivates.”

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