The Second Girl(34)
“I miss certain aspects of the job. I liked working patrol.”
“You were a good officer, but you had another mission in life.”
“I did, but I didn’t realize it until I became an officer and went back to school.”
“And everyone that knew you just thought you were using the department to work your way through college.”
“And they were right. But I didn’t know where it was going to lead. You know that.”
I nod because I do know. That’s why I respect her.
“I always thought I would just make rank. Slowly climb the ladder,” she continues.
“Yeah, I remember. You would’ve made a good commander eventually.”
“No, that position is too political. I would have settled down at lieutenant.”
“Smart girl.”
She takes down another oyster, her lips moist with brine after, and her eyes seem to grow larger.
It doesn’t take long to get through a dozen oysters. I manage to get the attention of our busy waitress, and we order another dozen. I down my martini and order another one of those. Leslie’s still nursing what she has left.
“I’ll have another, too,” she says.
“Take it easy, champ. You know how that goes to your head,” I tease.
“I’m not the lightweight you think I am.”
“You were tougher when you were a cop and hit these spots on a regular basis with us.”
“You saying I’m not tough anymore?”
“Just when it comes to liquor, maybe not so much.”
“It’s called a healthy lifestyle, Frankie. Makes me tougher than you think.”
“You’ll outlive me, then.”
“Don’t say things like that. I need you around.”
If only I knew what she really meant by that.
We drive with the windows down on the way back to her home. The temperature has dropped, but only slightly.
I turn onto her block. Before I pull to the front of her house, she asks, “Do you want to find a parking space?”
Twenty-seven
It takes a moment before I realize where I am.
Leslie’s under the covers beside me, sleeping on her side with her back toward me. Her arm is tucked over the top cover, nuzzling it close to her face. The side of her breast is only partly exposed and a paler shade of ivory than the skin on her forearms.
The curtains are open. It’s barely light outside. A large holly tree with its waxy green leaves and red fall/winter berries obstructs the view to her neighbor’s house and vice versa. But I still want to close the curtain.
Once I’m up, I’m up.
I didn’t sleep all that long, but I slept hard. Haven’t done that in a while. Costello’s better than having to down a couple of Klonopins with some Jameson.
I don’t want to wake her and I don’t want to go home, so I lie on my back and roll to my side so I can look at her some more.
How her delicate neck curves into her shoulder.
Twenty-eight
Sunday rolled by like nothin’, and I’m already looking forward to the next time. But who the hell knows when that’ll come. Just her.
It rained most of the day, too, which made matters worse, ’cause after I left Costello’s house at about 11 a.m., I spent the afternoon and most of the night on a monstrous binge.
Hard Monday morning.
Fall wind’s howling outside my window.
I sit on the sofa to have my coffee and go over the notes from my interview with the Gregorys. I have a couple of hours before I have to be at their house. I figure I’d better get some phone calls done, try to set up interviews with Miriam’s friends from the list, and call Amanda’s family, see if I can get in to talk with her.
I’ve broken just about every rule there is to break in the so-called PI code, but I need to be careful about stepping on toes with respect to Amanda’s investigation. I had dealings with PIs when I was a cop, and I have to say, they pissed me off more than once. Normally I couldn’t give a shit, but I like Davidson, and Luna’s a real friend.
I curl over the pages of my notes to a fresh page and mark the date and time.
My first call’s to Davidson to let him know I got hired by the family of the missing girl. We talk for a bit. He’s not concerned, actually figured I would get hired, but it’s a different matter when I tell him I’ll be contacting Amanda’s family to set up an interview.
“You want to be careful about talking to her,” he tells me. “She’s a victim in an ongoing federal investigation.”
“Yeah, and the last thing I’ll be talking about is your investigation, so no need to worry. All I want to do is show her a photo of Miriam Gregory and see if she knows her.”
“I’m not going to say don’t do it. Just know the edge, Frankie.”
Yeah, he can say “don’t do it,” but that won’t stop me. I wouldn’t be breaking any rules, either, just making enemies. I’ve been hired to investigate a case, and she’s my only lead right now. He can make things tough on me if he wants, but it doesn’t sound like he’s trying to do that. It’s always been helpful that I’m a retired cop. Now, if boys like Davidson knew I was forced into retirement, that would be entirely a different matter. I’d be through, an addict, another waste.