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all say a loud ‘thank God’ that we’re living in a country where no one has to be a slave unless he chooses to be. Thank you all, good afternoon and God Bless America.”
    There was thunderous applause. The show was over.
    As one of the cameras pulled back to let him pass, Claymore walked away, talking to various eager members of the audience and shaking hands with some of them.
    He left the set to be confronted by the two uniformed policemen and a female detective who couldn’t have been more than thirty, if that. But what frightened him most was the implacable look on their faces. He didn’t know what was going on, but sensed that it was something serious. The faces of the TV staff hovering around them looked tense. The detective stepped foreword and flashed her shield at Claymore.
    “Elias Claymore?”
    “Yes?” replied Claymore, slightly nervously.
    “Detective Riley. I have a warrant for your arrest.”
    “What for?
    “Rape.”
    Claymore shot a look of panic at the producer and swallowed.
    “Call Alex Sedaka! Now!”

Friday, 5 June 2009 – 15:30
    “This is the best Chinese food I’ve tasted,” said Alex, expertly picking up a mouthful of Chicken Chow Mein with a pair of wooden chopsticks.
    “Best at this price ,” said Martine, her voice still tense from the incident back at the snooker tournament. “Let’s not exaggerate.”
    They were eating at the Embassy Kitchen, just across the parking lot from the billiards club. Martine was right about the price – you could get a good meal there for seven dollars. But he felt he ought to stick to his guns about the quality. The only Chinese food that tasted better, to his moderately discerning palate, was that of his sister, who lived in Israel.
    The area itself seemed like a bit of a dump. But in his capacity as a criminal lawyer, Alex was used to slumming it. And he suspected that Martine was too, in her line of work.
    “Look, about what happened earlier.”
    He was nervous, sensing that Martine was still angry.
    “You don’t have to apologize. Just don’t do it again.”
    Alex felt deflated. He hadn’t been going to apologize. But he wanted to clear the air.
    “You shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of crap.”
    “And you shouldn’t have to get into fights to prove your masculinity! Okay! You fathered two children. You paid your dues in life. You win battles in court – which is the battleground where thinking men fight and win battles. I don’t need you to beat up some redneck to prove you yourself.”
    He was flattered that she said “beat up” not “get beaten up by.”
    “I wasn’t trying to prove anything. But the way he was going, I figured it was distracting to –”
    “Oh gimme a break! You think arguing with him made it less distracting? Come off it Alex, You wanted to play the he-man hero. You wanted to show me that you’re not the wimp lawyer in a suit but the tough guy who can take care of his lady – like I’m gonna be impressed by that macho bullshit. Like I haven’t seen it, done it and bought the T-shirt.”
    “All right maybe I over-reacted. And maybe I’m old fashioned.” He was leaning close to her now. “But then again, I think that it is a man’s duty to protect his lady.”
    “And maybe you’ve also got some unfinished issues.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “It means you’re still thinking about another lady felt you should have been able to protect.”
    She saw the hurt in his eyes.
    “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I was out of line with that.”
    “No it’s true. You’re right. I wasn’t there for Melody.”
    “You couldn’t have been there for Melody. How were you to know that some looney-tunes with a Saturday night special was going to bush-whack her on the way home? Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
    Alex’s wife Melody had been killed by a gang-banger in the parking structure of the hospital where she worked. Melody was a doctor who had been working in A & E