"Well, hello."
"Evening."
"What's in the glass?"
"Last I checked, Glenfyddich and three cubes, though they're drowning fast."
"I'll have same."
"I'm waiting for someone."
"So I shouldn't sit here?"
"Not up to me to save bar stools."
"She's late?"
"Not particularly. Woman's prerogative, to keep a man waiting."
"Is it, now."
"It is."
"And who would keep a dashing rogue like yourself waiting?"
"Madeline."
"The very same."
"I thought..."
"Thought what?"
"...thought you'd be taller."
"You're a poor liar, Jack McCoy. What did you really think."
"Bartender?"
"No diversions."
"You're a direct woman."
"I keep to the point. Go on."
"And demanding."
"High-maintenance. Like in Harry Met Sally."
"Oh. Well, you'll have to go then. I don't maintain well."
"But you continue to bob and weave just like a good prosecutor. Now then. You thought I'd be prettier."
"That's dangerous ground. But no. I hadn't known red hair could glow like that."
"Auburn."
"Another scotch for the lady, bartender."
"You thought...I'd be...plainer."
"No, no, Jamie's friends always jangle when they walk."
"I'll take them off, then."
"No, I like bracelets. Like bells."
"You've already raced ahead and had at least one of those drinks, haven't you."
"Just one. Be kind. I'm in a stressful situation."
"This is nice, this scotch. Smooth. I like the choice."
"Cheers."
"So, you've met other friends of your assistant for drinks?"
"Nightly."
"You are a lousy liar."
"I fool many."
"And I don't doubt it. You've got the eyes of a real devil. All sad and turned down but there's that careless glint in them, I can see it, you'd use that to your advantage. Bet you have in court more than once."
"Very perceptive."
"So what did you think I'd be, Jack McCoy?"
"Something else."
"Should I go change?"
"No...just...you're perfect the way you are."
"Perfect, is it? That's grand. Except for something. I'll have it out of you."
"Where did Jamie say you were from?"
"Mayo. County Mayo. Born there, moved here when I was eight. Never quite lost the voice. I can tell you hear it on me."
"It sings to me."
"You are the charmer. I'd know you were a McCoy even if you hadn't told me your name. Finn McCoy broke my heart in the third form, we were just nine."
"Madeline isn't much of an Irish name."
"My mum fell in love with the little red-head from the French book series. I stopped Mad-e-line when I turned ten. Madeline rolls off the tongue a bit better."
"Madeline Silver. You're going to have to explain that one to me. The O'Silvers don't ring many Irish name bells for me, either."
"My first husband was Jewish."
"And you haven't dropped the name?"
"He died six years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"Only for stumbling when you were trying to be clever. I'll forgive you. I haven't forgiven him."
"For what?"
"For leaving me."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"But you're here."
"So I am. And so are you."
"And that's supposed to mean something."
"'Tis."
"Jamie has briefed you well."
"Apparently better than she briefed you."
"I asked not to know anything."
"Did you, now. A lawyer who doesn't want all the facts in evidence. Why is that."
"I don't really want to do this."
"What is it you're doing that you don't care to?"
"This. Opening gambits."
"We all have to start somewhere, Jack."
"That implies a desire to start, too, Madeline."
"You wouldn't have called if you didn't care to start again."
"Warm-up exercises. Making sure the muscles don't atrophy."
"Now that's an image I can take home to keep myself warm."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"Then I'm not."
"You are a case."
"Head case."
"No. Not that way. How was I supposed to be, Jack."
"Younger."
"Oh."
"Now I am sorry."
"Yes."
"Really. I shouldn't have --"
"I asked, I got what I asked for."
"It was tactless."
"I'm going to be forty one day after Christmas, Jack."
"I just meant --"
"You thought I'd be her age."
"Jamie's."
"Oh, no. Not Jamie's age."
"Yes."
"Don't do it to yourself, Jack. Yes, Jamie briefed me. I didn't have a choice. She said I needed to use care and caution, even if you wouldn't. So even though we haven't spoken of these things, I know what you thought. I knew it as soon as you half-spoke it. I don't know who this person was, never met her, never heard her name until Jamie mentioned it, mentioned how you couldn't get over it. But you can't honestly think if she was here today she'd still be with you."
"You're talking out your ear, Madeline. Maybe you should go."
"She was a child. She would have outgrown you in a year or two."
"You didn't know her."
"My husband did."
"He knew --"
"Not her, not exactly. But he knew his own. He was coming home from a rendezvous, the ones he had every odd Thursday, his car slammed into a phone pole. She'd tired of him that night, told him it was over, he got blasted drunk, crashed, end of story. Guess I'd already lost Frank Silver but not until that night did he really go away."
"He died --"
"Drunk driver."
"Her name..."
"I never knew her name."
"Her name was Claire Kincaid."
"I know, Jack."
"The car came out of nowhere, into the intersection and rammed her and her passenger. He got out without a scrape. She never woke up."
"Here, take this."
"I'm fine. I don't need a hankie."
"If you say so."
"I do."
"Good."
"Passenger got out alive. Barely a scrape."
"New boyfriend?"
"No."
"Who, then?"
"Co-worker. Drunk detective. I should've waited."
"For what."
"She was coming to pick me up. If I'd waited I could have stopped it."
"Don't flatter yourself so much."
"Not flattery."
"Then don't say foolishness."
"We would have stayed longer. The drunk driver would have missed us completely."
"Jamie did say she was a bit of an obsession with you, you know."
"I am not obsessing."
"Then let it go."
"I'm trying."
"Do you hate him?"
"Hate who?"
"The drunk detective."
"Why would I hate Lennie Briscoe?"
"He was the last to be with her. He could have saved her. He didn't."
"He couldn't have done a damn thing."
"And so, and so, and so."
"Very clever."
"I have my arguing points."
"You mean I couldn't've done a damn thing, either."
"Love doesn't weigh anything, Jack. It doesn't shield from speeding cars."
"Or lamp posts."
"Indeed."
"Bartender, another, please."
"Quite a team, the two of us."
"How do you mean."
"Sad sacks, all around. Living, already dead."
"I'm a prosecutor, damn it. There has to be some way to make this come out good."
"Some things have no good in them, Jack. They just are as they are, as they were made."
"Who made you so wise, Madeline Silver?"
"I did. Over forty years of work and toil, I did."
"It's a respectable kind of investment."
"That's me. Respectable, red-headed, and alone."
"Auburn hair, I thought."
"Ah, you charmer."
"Are you charmed?"
"I'm getting that way. Your voice has an edge that soothes me. Like a massage."
"Now who's giving who images?"
"You're a dirty old man."
"Not so old."
"No, not so old at all. But too old for some."
"I should have learned that by now."
"Jamie says you've never passed at her."
"Jamie would bite my head off if I tried."
"But that's not the reason, is it."
"You're very direct."
"As I say, I like it that way. Clears out the grime."
"What was the question?"
"That's not the reason you've never made a pass at Jamie Ross, your assistant, former student of mine, now good friend."
"It never occurred to me."
"That can't be true."
"At least you didn't call me a liar."
"Because I don't think you're lying."
"Can't do it again. Can't consider dating another assistant. Even if I felt so motivated, it's just...too..."
"Close."
"Yes."
"I know."
"She didn't say you taught."
"You didn't ask."
"Right. I didn't want the facts."
"I did teach."
"And don't now?"
"Now I tutor and run courses in the evening through NYU's Continuing Education program."
"In what?"
"Writing. Creative writing."
"Jamie took creative writing?"
"She is very creative, you know."
"As a matter of fact..."
"She wrote a story in my class once that just took my breath away. Such lovely imagery and detail, then so little plot. It was a shame, and I had her start over again. She's no writer, but she isn't without talent."
"I've seen some writing. Briefs. She's competent."
"You're a taskmaster."
"I keep the overseer's outfit in the closet."
"Very un-PC of you, Mr. McCoy."
"I haven't been PC since I protested Vietnam."
"I like that. A protester who then goes to work for the Man."
"It was a job."
"Not from what I've heard. Not for you. Nobody stays in the prosecutor's office as long as you have for the job of it."
"I thought I could make a difference."
"And have you?"
"Not when it really counted."
"I've read the articles they mention about your cases. That's a lie, and you're still terrible at telling them."
"Yes, fine, you're right. I'm a star prosecutor. I'm good at what I do and I loved doing it."
"Past tense?"
"I've lost my taste."
"Not from what Jamie says."
"It wasn't just Claire being...killed, Madeline. I think my hope in making any difference in the way the world spins on its axis died with her."
"Then you've been an idealist about thirty years too long."
"And how long have you been one."
"I'm still counting the days. There's always hope to be had, Jack. It doesn't die. It may hibernate a bit, but it never dies."
"How do you know?"
"You called me."
"You're hinging a lot on one ring of the phone."
"That's all it takes, sometimes, doesn't it."
"I suppose it does."
"Well, then."
"Where are you going?"
"Have a meeting downtown. But it was lovely meeting you, Jack."
"Don't you want to grab dinner?"
"Is that an offer?"
"I suppose it is."
"Call me tomorrow and find out."
"I should, shouldn't I."
"Can't change what you didn't do before, Jack. Can't make things happen you don't do now."
"Bye, Madeline."
"Goodnight, Jack McCoy."
 
 

end