I sat down between the men, placed the napkin in my lap, and glanced at Phin again.
Phin was staring at Holly.
“Holly was just telling us a skip trace story.” McGlade patted her on the hand. “Go ahead, baby.”
“You’re a bounty hunter?” I asked.
“Private investigator. Like Harry. I occasionally chase bail jumpers to keep things interesting. Where was I, hon?”
“You had him cornered in the alley.”
“Right. So the punk didn’t want to be brought in, even though I had my gun out. He told me to go ahead and shoot him.”
“What was his crime?” Phin had puppy-dog eyes.
“Assault. He liked to hit women. Now, personally, I wouldn’t have minded pumping a few rounds into this son of a bitch. He deserved it. But he wasn’t armed, and the local police department probably wouldn’t have supported such an action. So I fired twice, over his head, to get his attention. Guy just stares at me, not moving.”
Holly had a totally engaging way of telling a story, her eyes wide and her hands in constant motion, adding greater impact to her words.
I instantly disliked her. There was a bottle of red wine on the table, and I filled my glass and took a healthy slug.
“So I fire another round, between his legs.”
“How far away were you?” Phin asked.
“Twenty feet.”
“Holly’s an expert marksman.” Harry beamed.
“Marksperson,” Holly corrected. “I’ve won a few trophies. No big deal.”
“So have I. I’m the Area champ.”
Was that me talking? Jesus, Jack, are we that insecure?
“What do you carry?” Holly asked me.
“A.38 Colt.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What is that, a two-inch barrel?”
I knew what she was hinting at. A.38 snub nose was no good for sharpshooting.
“In my job, I’ve never had to hit anything farther than ten feet away. The shorter barrel means a quicker draw. For handgun competitions I shoot a.22 LR, Smith and Wesson Model 2206.”
“Capable weapon. I prefer the Number 41 Rimfire.”
“Doesn’t that have a shorter barrel?”
“Half inch less than the 2206, and five ounces heavier. But I like the thumbrest on the grips, and think it’s a better balanced weapon.”
She knew her firearms. Which made her even more annoying.
“So what happened next?” Phin asked.
Holly grinned. “Well, I probably missed his peter by two inches, and that would have scared the spaghetti out of most men, but this guy still just stands there. Now the only way I can collect from the bondsman is if I bring him in, and he outweighed me by about a hundred pounds and wasn’t afraid of guns.”
Harry’s smile threatened to crack his face. “I love this next part. Tell them what you did, baby.”
“I put away my gun, walked up to the prick, and asked him if he was right-handed or left-handed.”
“And what did he say?” This from Harry, who had somehow turned into Ed McMahon.
“He called me a bitch, and told me it was none of my business.”
“So what did you do?”
I know what I did. I drank more wine.
Holly sipped some wine too. Both Phin and Harry reached for the bottle to pour her more. Phin won.
I set my empty glass on the table.
No one filled it.
“Well, I told the guy that I was originally planning on just breaking his bad arm. But since he wouldn’t tell me which that was, I’d have to break them both.”
Harry clapped again, and let out an inappropriate whoop.
“So what did he do?”
“He laughed in my face.”
“And what did you do?”
Holly’s smile was tight-lipped. “I broke both of his arms.”
Harry laughed, and Phin joined in. A waitress came by and filled my wineglass, asking if we’d like another bottle. I gave her a vigorous nod.
Harry nudged me. “Holly’s a martial arts expert.”
“Really?” I feigned interest. “Which discipline?”
She shrugged. “Tae kwon do. Third dan black belt, but I don’t practice much anymore.”
I was only a first dan black belt. I drank more wine, then tried the bread. Excellent bread.
“So where did you two meet?” This from Phin.
McGlade puffed out his chest. “Eye-Con. It’s the largest private investigator convention of the year. Held in Chicago this year, in February. I sat next to her during a lecture about listening devices, and she recognized my name from the TV series.”
“You just met two months ago?” I formed the words around the bread in my mouth. “Isn’t it kind of soon to leap into marriage?”
“Why wait?” Holly reached over and held McGlade’s hand. “We’re not getting any younger.”
I went fishing. “That’s ridiculous. You’re how old, thirty?”
“Thanks so much.” Holly patted my forearm. “I’m thirty-eight.”
Now I really hated her.
The waitress came again, with more wine, and after an elaborate wine presentation she discussed the daily specials. I tuned her out, trying to understand what the hell Holly saw in Harry. He was probably rich because of the series, but all the money in the world didn’t make up for the fact that McGlade was one of the most obnoxious, offensive, and annoying people to ever drag his knuckles, and Holly seemed, well, perfect.
We ordered. Holly regaled the boys with more tales of heroics. I drank. After my fourth glass, I came right out and asked.
“Holly, you have to tell me. What in God’s name are you doing with McGlade?”
“What do you mean?”
I mutely gestured with both hands, finally saying, “Well, look at him.”
Holly placed a hand on Harry’s head and ruffled his curly brown hair.
“He makes me laugh.”
McGlade wedged a fist-sized hunk of bread into his mouth. “Plus I’m hung like a beluga whale. But I have more hair.”
They shared a kiss. I rolled my eyes. I’d fallen for my share of losers too. At least when she divorced him, she’d get a decent settlement.
Dinner arrived, and it was probably excellent, but I had too much of a buzz to notice. I switched from wine to coffee, knowing I’d eventually have to drive, and Holly held Phin’s hand and asked him in a breathy Happy-Birthday-Mister-President voice if he’d do her the honor of standing up on her side at the wedding two days from now.
Phin agreed, of course. If she’d asked him to cut off his own legs he would have been racing for the hacksaw.
“And you, Jack, thank you so much for being there on Harry’s side.”
She said it in such a genuine way that I actually believed her.
“It’s my pleasure.” I wasn’t nearly as genuine.
If Holly noticed, she kept it hidden. “You know, I’ve got some free time during the afternoon tomorrow. It’ll be the first time in days.”
Harry grinned and held her hand. “I don’t like letting her out of my sight for very long.”
Holly grinned back. Love sure was disgusting.
“Anyway, Jack, I haven’t been shooting in forever. Would you like to fire off a few rounds?”
“Sure.” I didn’t know what else to say. “Drop by the station tomorrow, around five. We’ll hit the range.”
I had no idea why she was making an effort, and an even lesser idea of why I was reciprocating. Because I had no friends? Because I still didn’t understand why such an incredible woman was marrying Harry?
Or was it because I’d take an obscene amount of delight in outscoring her ass on the firing range?
We had dessert, more coffee, and then Holly got up to visit the ladies’ room.
“Well?” Harry elbowed me in the arm. “What do you think of her? What a filly, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Harry. She’s a real filly.”
“How about you, Jim?”
“Phin.”
“Phin. Pretty prime piece of real estate I’m developing, huh?”
“She’s lovely.” Phin looked at me, for only the second time of the night, a question in his eyes.
Harry slurped some coffee, spilling it onto his shirt. “I’m the luckiest man who ever lived, that’s for sure. She’s beautiful, smart, funny, and the sex is mind-blowing. She doesn’t wear underwear. Can you believe it? I’m writing a letter to Penthouse.”