Cuff Me(21)

She sat up straighter. “Did you meet a woman while I was gone? A sweet-flavored-coffee-loving woman?”

Vincent merely held her gaze, and Jill kept her smile in place, but she also wanted to shake him. To demand that he answer.

“I already told you I’m not seeing anyone,” he said.

Jill felt her shoulders relax a little; told herself that it wasn’t because she didn’t want Vincent to have met someone. Of course she wanted her partner to meet a nice woman. To settle down and—

She pushed the thought aside. Lifted her mug. “Explain.”

He shrugged before putting his mug in the cup holder and turning the ignition. “I stopped at the store last night for eggs and paper towels. Then I saw the foofy coffee creamer stuff, knew that you rarely get your ass out of bed in time to make your own coffee…”

Vincent broke off with a shrug as he began to drive, and Jill could only stare at him in puzzlement.

“Six years we’ve been doing this,” she said, “and you’ve never made me coffee. Brought me coffee, yes. Picked up a cup for both of us while we’re working OT, sure. But this…”

She held up her mug and stared at it.

Vincent made an irritable sound like he wanted to rip the mug away from her, but then he surprised her—again—by changing the conversation once more.

“How’d you sleep?”

Jill sighed and took a sip of coffee—a big one. “Didn’t. Not much anyway.”

“Me either.”

She tapped her nails against the cup, stared out the window. “I’d forgotten about this part. Forgot that it’s always like this on the first night of a new case. Especially one that doesn’t have so much as a hint of a clue.”

“Same.”

Jill pivoted her head to look at him. “I think we should start with the scene. There’s got to be something we missed. Maybe run through a couple scenarios…”

“I was thinking we start with questioning the sister,” he said. “Her prints are all over the place.”

“Yeah, because it’s her sister,” Jill said. “The housekeeper said Dorothy was at Lenora’s all the time.”

“Still want to question her,” he said.

If Vincent bringing her coffee had shocked the hell out of Jill, it was nothing compared to the jolt his next sentence had on her:

“If you’re okay with that,” he said slowly, flicking his eyes to her.

Her mouth dropped open. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my partner?”

He said nothing, and she punched his arm. “No, seriously. I don’t even recognize this thoughtful guy who brings me caffeine and asks my permission before interviewing someone.”

“We’re partners,” he said roughly. “Of course I need your permission.”

Jill laughed. “Since when? Since when have you done anything other than bark out directives and expect me to go along?”

He sighed as he rubbed a hand over his hair. “That makes it sound like I don’t respect you.”

“Yeah it does, doesn’t it?” she teased.

But then her smile slipped, because he looked troubled.

She hadn’t meant it that way. It was true that Vin could be an ass, but he was never chauvinistic. Had never made her feel like less than an equal despite his penchant for taking charge when he had a hunch.

“For the record,” she said, “whenever you do utter your grumpy directives… I trust you.”

That too was true.

Sure, his bossiness had grated in their first months together when they were trying to figure out their rhythm, but over the years she realized that he’d never boss her around for the sake of being bossy.

When he insisted they do something, it was always with good reason. The man was very nearly always right, which was why…

“Okay then,” Jill said with a shrug. “The sister it is.”

“Good. She already knows we’re coming.”

Jill smiled, and they fell silent for the rest of the drive to Lenora’s sister’s place.

To a non–New Yorker, Dorothy Birch and her now deceased sister were practically neighbors. Dorothy lived on Eighty-Ninth and First, Lenora had lived on Eighty-First and Fifth.

On a map, they were close.

But in New York reality? They were worlds apart.

Not that Dorothy Birch lived in a hovel, by any means. Her Yorkville apartment building was a lovely prewar mid-rise with a doorman and carefully laid flowers outside.

It just lacked the splendor and prestige of Lenora’s Upper East Side brownstone.

As Jill stepped out of the car and looked up at the building, she wondered how much that distinction bothered Dorothy.

Yesterday when they’d come to deliver the sad news of her sister’s passing, Dorothy had been as distraught as one might expect.

Disbelieving at first. Followed quickly by shock.

Jill wondered if Dorothy had moved into grief yet. That was always the worst part… seeing the moment a family member moved beyond the shock and into the heart-wrenching reality that their loved one was really, truly gone.

It was easily one of the worst parts of Jill and Vincent’s job.

Vincent came to stand beside her. “What’re you thinking?”

Jill tilted her head back to look at him. “Why her? Why start with the sister?”