From Potter's Field

'Tomorrow's Thursday,' he said. 'I've got to go to First Precinct and see if anyone remembers that I still work for the city.'
'What's happening with Sheriff Santa?'
'He's scheduled for a preliminary hearing next week.'
'He's locked up, I presume,' I said.
'Nope. Out on bond. When do you start jury duty?'
'Monday.'
'Maybe you can get cut loose.'
'I can't ask for that,' I said. 'Somebody would make a big deal of it, and even if they didn't, it would be hypocritical. I'm supposed to care about justice.'
'Do you think I should see Doris?' We were in Richmond now, the downtown skyline in view.
I looked over at his profile, his thinning hair, big ears and face, and the way his huge hands made the steering wheel disappear. He could not remember his life before his wife. Their relationship had long ago left the froth and fire of sex and moved into an orbit of safe but boring stability. I believed they had parted because they were afraid of growing old.
'I think you should see her,' I said to him. 'So I should go up to New Jersey.' 'No,' I said. 'Doris is the one who left. She should come here.'