21st Birthday (Women's Murder Club #21)(9)

“Uh. Well, Brady is moody. Bad moody. Didn’t sleep last night. That’s odd for him. He likes Clapper a lot. It’s more like he’d almost decided he didn’t want the promotion to chief, but you know, he’s pissed that the mayor made the decision for him. Feels to him like a slight. Or a vote of no confidence.”

Before I could say that I’d already gotten a big fat demerit from Clapper, our favorite waitress, Lorraine, came to our table. Her red hair was pulled up in a knot; she had pencil and pad in hand.

She asked, “Is Cindy coming?”

Yuki said, “Any minute.”

On cue, Cindy blew into the back room.

She wore denim all the way and her curls were tight from the damp wind. Her big blue eyes were shining, and after she slid in next to Yuki, she said, “Sorry for making you wait. I was stuck behind an oil truck.”

Lorraine greeted her and recited the specials.

Claire asked for steak, black beans, and rice. Yuki ordered a crab salad, and Cindy said, “Conch, deep fried.”

“We’re out of conch,” said Lorraine.

“Chicken feet dredged in spicy flour.”

“So, by that you mean blackened snapper and fries.”

“Exactly!” said Cindy. “And a salad.”

“Me, too,” I said,

“Yuki. You need a margarita?”

“Just beer,” said our dear friend who had no tolerance for tequila at all.

“So that’s beer all around,” Lorraine said.

“Hear, hear,” I said.

Beer came. We lifted our frosty mugs and toasted as one.

“To Claire.”

“To us,” said Claire.

We clinked mugs.

Lorraine brought plates of food lined up and balanced on both of her forearms, and when dinner was on the table she asked if we needed anything else. We all said we were good. After taking long slugs of brew, Cindy leaned forward and said dramatically, “Well, girlfriends. I’ve got news.”





CHAPTER 12





“LET ME PUT a drum roll under that,” Cindy said. “I’ve got Burke news. But first, I’ve gotta eat something.”

We booed and hissed and Claire said, “You’re gonna pay for that.”

Cindy laughed, saying, “Seriously, I’m starving.”

As she doused her fries with hot sauce, I said, “I guess I’ll spill my own Burke news. I went to Sunset Park Prep today and had a chat with Lucas Burke.”

“Linds,” said Cindy. “You trying to scoop me?”

“I needed to get a fix on him,” I said. “Your friend Kathleen got to me. She hooked me good.” I told my friends about my impromptu meeting with Burke, how he claimed that he’d had a fight with Tara Monday morning and that she’d taken off with the baby in retaliation.

“Oh, and he said she’s off her meds. He offered to come down and file charges against her for kidnapping the baby, but when I took him up on it he said, no, she’d be home soon. He said he destroyed her credit card.”

“Could you have arrested him on suspicion?” Claire asked.

“I have nothing on him. And Clapper would probably suspend me from duty. Missing Persons is on the case. So that’s what I’ve got. Cindy? You’re up.”

Cindy put down her fork, dabbed her lips with her napkin, and gave us all a little smirk.

“This is off the record. Hear me?”

All of us were guilty of swearing Cindy to the same promise, so we laughed, raised our right hands, and agreed. Then, using topic sentences, complete paragraphs, and an occasional subhead, Cindy told us what she knew.

“Misty Lee Fogarty is a senior at Sunset Park Prep,” she said. “She’s eighteen, taking English Lit from Lucas Burke and also sleeping with him. He told her that he’s leaving his wife for her.”

Claire said, “I guess when you’re eighteen, you’ve never heard that before.”

“Who told you this leaving-the-wife story?” Yuki asked.

“Friend of Misty. And then I spoke to Misty, myself. On the record.”

“Long blond hair in a braid?” I thought of the girl who’d come to the door when I was in Burke’s office.

“That’s her,” said Cindy. “And Misty says, yah, Lucas put it in writing.”

I asked, “And you believed her?”

Cindy reached for her bag and pulled out a note hand-printed on a pink index card. She flashed it so we could see the writing and then, read it out loud.

“Dear Misty, I’m in love with you. I promise that I will be free and we will be able to get married by the end of the school year.

“Love, Luke.”

I said, “Is it dated?”

“Nope.”

“Well, take a picture of that, will you, Cindy, and send it to me. Off the record.” I winked. “I want to compare it with his signature on his DMV file.”

She growled playfully, took the picture and sent it to me. I wondered if she would show it to Rich later, how my partner would react to my cutting him out.

Then I asked our so-called Girl Reporter, “So what do you think, Cindy? That Lucas killed his wife to be with Misty?”

“What do you think?” she asked me.