Part 36 (1/2)
He sat next to me.
”You are a vast storehouse of personal information,” I whispered. ”How the h.e.l.l do you know about Spence?”
He shrugged and leaned in, keeping his voice low. ”Information is what I do. What do you think the 'I' in IT stands for? I promise I won't breathe a word of it. I just brought it up because I knew that the two of you knew. This is not Spence's first rehab. Do you think he'll make it?”
I looked at Cheryl to see if she'd take the question. Not a chance in h.e.l.l.
”Yes,” I said. ”He knows that if he doesn't, he's going to lose the best woman he ever had.”
”That's precisely what I was thinking, and if Kylie MacDonald ever winds up single again...” Matt took a long, thoughtful pause into fantasyland. ”h.e.l.l, mate,” he said, ”I don't have to tell you how fantastic she is.”
”No, you don't,” I said, trying to keep my eyes away from Cheryl and my head as far away from the past as I could and even further away from the future. ”No, you don't.”
”Well, enjoy your lunch, you two,” Matt said, getting up. ”And I know I've said this before, Zach, but brilliant job on the Hazmat case.”
He headed toward the door. Cheryl stared at me without saying a word. Ten seconds into the silence, she burst into a girlish giggle, and I immediately started laughing with her.
”Well, that certainly gives new meaning to the phrase embarra.s.singly awkward social situation,” she said. ”You thought he had the hots for me, and it turns out he has the hots for Kylie. How do you feel about that?”
”I feel like it's something I don't want to talk about,” I said. ”Certainly not now, and absolutely not within a hundred yards of Gerri's Diner.”
”How about a hundred miles from Gerri's Diner?”
”I don't understand.”
”I think I'm ready to take this relations.h.i.+p to the next level,” she said.
”Okay...”
She slid her iPhone across the table. ”I know I've mentioned it, but I've never even shown you a picture.”
I looked at the screen. It was a picture of a white house, its roof, front yard, and driveway covered with snow.
”It's even prettier in the summer when the flowers are out, or in October when the leaves are turning,” she said.
”Is that your house in Woodstock?” I said.
”Half the time. The settlement says that Fred and his child-bride-to-be have it the other half, but...”
”But what?”
”They won't be using it for a while. The soon-to-be-next Mrs. Fred Robinson is pregnant.”
”Hmmm,” I said, stroking my imaginary beard. ”And how do you feel about that?”
”I feel like it's something I don't want to talk about,” she said. ”Ever. So, would you like to drive up to Woodstock this weekend, rake some leaves, breathe some country air, lie by the fireplace, and drink wine?”
”It sounds like it could be almost as much fun as the paperwork I've been grinding out.”
”You'll love it. That house was once a very joyful part of my life, and then one day it wasn't. I'm finally ready to go back there and find the joy again, and I'd like it to be with you. So, what do you say? This weekend?”
”Are you kidding? I was wondering if you were ever going to invite me.”
”Well, now you can stop wondering.”
Me? Stop wondering? Never happen. Even now I was wondering if Spence would make it through rehab, and if he didn't, would Kylie leave him, and if she did, would Matt ask her out, and if he did- Cheryl smiled at me, reached across the table, and, without caring who was watching and who wasn't, took my hand in hers.
I smiled back, covered her hand with mine, shook all the other baggage out of my head, and wondered, How the heck did I get to be this lucky?
Acknowledgments.
The authors would like to thank Undersheriff Frank Faluotico and First Sergeant Alan Rowe of the Ulster County NY Sheriff's Office, NYPD Detective Sal Catapano, Dr. Lawrence Dresdale, Bob Beatty, Mel Berger, and Jason Wood for their help in making this work of fiction ring true.
For the Women's Murder Club, this is more than bad luck. This is murder.
For an excerpt, turn the page.
It was an ugly Monday just after noon. There had been no sign of sun so far, just a thick fog that had put the blocks to traffic around the Golden Gate. I was behind the wheel of the squad car and Inspector Rich Conklin, my partner of many years, was in the seat beside me when Claire called my cell phone.
Claire Washburn is my closest friend, and also San Francisco's Chief Medical Examiner. This call was strictly business.
”Lindsay,” Claire had shouted over the braying of car horns. ”I've got two DBs in a single-car smashup and I don't know what the h.e.l.l I'm looking at. If you and Richie are in the neighborhood, I could use another opinion.”
She gave me her location and I told her we'd be there as soon as weather and traffic permitted. I repeated to Rich what Claire had said and turned the car around.
My partner is smart, steady, a gla.s.s-half-full type of guy, and on this particular day he was pretty happy with himself.
He said, ”Claire wants us to look at a traffic fatality?”
”She doubts it's an accident.”
I followed Lincoln through the Presidio and past the Crissy Field Overlook toward the bridge as Conklin called Brady and told him we were answering Claire's call. He phoned Claire and told her we were about eight minutes out, then picked up where he left off, asking my advice on his romantic dilemma.
”It's Tina's birthday. We've been together for two months,” he said. ”So, what do I get her that means 'I like you a lot so far?'”
This line of conversation was tricky. Rich is like a younger brother to me. We're tight. We talk about everything. But his ex-girlfriend, Cindy, is my home girl. And Cindy was still suffering from their breakup six months ago. She hadn't given up hope that she and Richie could get back together.
To tell the truth, I was hoping for that, too.
I kept my eyes on the road, stayed on Lincoln, a two-laner flanked by historic buildings on the left and a parking lot on the right for visitors to the bridge. We drove slowly past the nifty old houses on Pilots' Row and then hit a wall of traffic.
”Looks like we're walking,” I said.