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IT’S A SPECIAL NIGHT and so Robby Sassoon has decided to treat himself to the Broadway revival of Merrily We Roll Along that he’s been wanting to see before its closing, his problem being that work kept getting in the way.

Now he’s delighted to discover that the revival has lived up to its notices with the small cast that includes the actor Daniel Radcliffe, who as a boy played Harry Potter in the movies.

Not the only wizard in the house tonight . Robby smiles to himself.

The show is everything he heard it would be and everything he hoped it would be, all the way to the closing number, “Our Time,” when they all sing, “Something is stirring …” before working their way to the song’s big, rousing finish, repeating the same lyrics over and over again:

“Me and you … me and you … me and you.”

He can’t get those lyrics out of his head even when he is out on 44th Street, knowing he can take his time before he begins to make his way uptown.

“Me and you,” Robby sings softly to himself.

A familiar feeling is stirring inside him.

He stops for dinner at Becco, a simple and unassuming restaurant in the theater district, for two of his favorite dishes, the polenta appetizer, one listed as Polenta con Speck, and the Parmigiana di Vitello.

He even allows himself a single glass of Antinori Tignanello cabernet, not worried about it dulling his senses, rather than enhancing them.

The wine is also one of his favorites, and expensive.

So am I.

When his entrée arrives at his table, Robby neatly tucks his cloth napkin into his collar, not wanting any of the sauce from the veal dish to end up on the front of his white shirt.

Robby doesn’t want it to look like blood.

The aesthetics would be all wrong.

In the end, he decides to skip dessert. It’s getting late, close to midnight. He hails a cab, gets out a couple of blocks from his destination, walking the rest of the way until he is finally walking down a narrow alley, past the trash cans, to the back of the building.

No security cameras back here. None in the back of the place. Robby has checked.

Robby knows the man will be here. As sloppy as the man is with so many areas of his life, starting with the gambling, he is a creature of habit, as Robby is. So this is another night when the man is the last one here, the only light once Robby is inside coming from the office near the kitchen.

Jane Smith’s ex-husband, the owner of Café Martin, doesn’t hear Robby come in, doesn’t see him until Robby is standing in the doorway to the office, gun pointed at him.

“Good evening, Martin,” Robby says.