The three of them sat at the bar, morosely looking at their reflections in the mirror behind it. A redhead, a blonde, and a brunette, all in a row. “The two of you could be on magazine covers,” Olivia said. “But between us, we can’t find a decent guy. Why?”
“Because men are dogs,” Brie said disgustedly. “And you’re beautiful, too.”
Olivia smiled at her in the mirror. “And you’re drunk, babe.”
Brie sighed. “One of us needed to be.”
“It wasn’t easy seeing Micah today, was it?” Olivia murmured.
Brie’s eyes closed. “No.”
Paige’s black brows winged up. “You saw Micah today?”
“It’s an arson case,” Olivia said. “Barlow’s assigned. We needed cadaver dogs.”
“That’s surprising,” Paige said. “I thought he’d die before asking Brie for anything.”
“He called everyone else on the list first,” Olivia admitted. “But he knows his job.”
“His job was never the problem,” Brie muttered. “But we’re talking about you. I can’t believe you had sex with a fireman in Chicago and never told me. I’m still mad at you.”
“No, you’re not.” Olivia sighed. “And I didn’t have sex. Exactly.”
Brie leaned forward, chin on her fist. “What did you have, exactly?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Paige said uncomfortably.
Brie frowned. “Whose side are you on anyway?”
Paige flinched. “Why would you even ask me that?”
Brie leaned forward more so that she could see Paige. “What’s with you tonight?”
Olivia turned toward Paige. “Yeah, what’s with you?”
“Nothing. I just think that sometimes there’s more to it than meets the eye.”
Olivia sighed. “He obviously didn’t think there was anything wrong with screaming someone else’s name… in the throes of passion.”
Brie patted Olivia’s hand. “Although, sometimes ‘And?’ means more than ‘And.’”
Olivia shook her head. “We need to get you some coffee.”
“No, I don’t wanna be sober. I was just wondering what he thought he’d said.”
“Or what he’d done,” Paige added. She signaled to the bartender. “Sal, can we get a cup of really strong coffee for our friend, here?”
Brie frowned. “Spoilsport. When did you become the responsible one?”
Sal put three steaming cups of coffee in front of them. “You need a cab, Brie?”
“I guess so,” Brie said glumly. “Dammit.”
“I’ll drive her home,” Paige said, then drew a breath. “Liv, I just think you should reconsider. This guy’s nice. From what you said, I mean.”
Brie was still frowning. “No, he’s not nice. Focus, Paige. He’s a jerk.”
Paige hesitated, then blurted, “Look, Liv, I need-”
Olivia’s cell phone buzzed in her pocket. “Wait a minute.” She checked the caller ID. “It’s Barlow. I have to take it.”
“He’s a jerk, too,” Brie muttered.
“Shh,” Olivia hissed. “Sutherland. What’s up?”
“Another fire,” Barlow said. “You should come.”
She slid off her stool. “Where?”
He gave her the address. “We’ve also got another homicide. Guy looks like he was shot in the head, then left in the building to burn. And Liv, we’ve got another ball.”
Olivia’s pulse started to race. “I’ll call Kane and we’ll be there as soon as we can.” She hung up and put enough cash on the bar to cover her tab. “Gotta go, girls.”
Chapter Ten
Tuesday, September 21, 12:10 a.m.
The garden behind David’s apartment house was his hideaway. The Gorski sisters kept it up beautifully, and for that he cut them a deal on the rent. The seventy-two-year-old identical twins had identical green thumbs and the air was fragrant with the last roses of the season. At least it wasn’t honeysuckle.
Behind him a sliding glass door opened, then closed. A minute later Glenn settled himself in the chair next to him and drew a deep breath. “God bless the Gorskis.”
David lifted his mug of hot tea. “Hear, hear. Did I wake you?”
“Nah. Couldn’t sleep. Saw the light from your laptop.” He gestured to the computer on David’s knee. “You still reading that asshole’s shit?”
David glanced at the Preston Moss speech he’d been rereading. “Somebody copied this guy last night at the condo fire, by design or smoke screen.”
Glenn looked amused. “And you’re playing detective?”
Annoyance prickled because he’d been trying to do exactly that-to understand the motive behind the arson that had killed that young girl. To understand how it had morphed into the cold-blooded murder of the guard. “That, and wondering if these environmentalists would quote Preston Moss after pulling a few dead bodies from a fire,” he said, then shook off his mood. “Did you and my mom have a nice dinner?”
“Yeah, except that Martino flirted with her shamelessly.”
David chuckled at Glenn’s sour tone. “What time did you get her home?”
“A little earlier than you rolled in, Dad. Thought you’d stay out longer.”
David’s smile faded. “Yeah. Well, it didn’t work out that way.”
“Sorry, boy.”
David sighed. “Me too.”
For a while they were silent. “So what did you do to your pretty blond cop?”
David leaned his head back to stare at the stars. “Did you ever mess up, Glenn?”
“With a woman? Time or two,” he said easily. “How bad did you mess up?”
It was something about Glenn, something about the night, or maybe David was just damn desperate for advice. “I, uh, said someone else’s name when we…”
“Oh.” Glenn’s face creased in a prolonged wince. “You didn’t just mess up, boy. You royally fucked up.”
“I got that,” David said dryly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Was the other woman current or past?”
“More like never.” He stared at the sky again. “I believe they call it unrequited love.”
“Ah. Well, that sucks.”
“Indeed it does.”
“So, why did you do it? Say the other woman’s name, I mean.”
“Got drunk on champagne,” David muttered.
“Why’d you do that?”
“It was a wedding. I hate weddings.” But he didn’t get drunk at weddings, no matter how miserable he’d been. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten drunk at Dana’s wedding. So why at Mia’s? Why in front of Olivia? He’d been asking himself that for two and a half years.
“Did your lady cop buy the champagne excuse?”
“No,” he said grimly.
“Didn’t think so. So what are you gonna do?”
“Talk to her again.” He’d promised not to bother her again, but sitting among the Gorski sisters’ roses, he’d decided that was a stupid promise to have made.
Glenn’s gray brows lifted. “Planning to wait another two and a half years for that?”
David huffed a surprised chuckle. “No.”
“You know,” Glenn mused, “I’ve never seen you drink more than one beer.”
“I don’t get drunk,” David said flatly, then amended it. “Hardly ever, anyway.”
“What happened the last time you got drunk? Before the lady cop?”
David closed his eyes. Someone I cared about died. “Something very bad.”
“But you got drunk again that night at the wedding anyway. I think you need to figure out why before you try to smooth things over with your lady cop.”
“I know,” he said. “I just don’t know how.”
“Yeah, you do.” He met David’s eyes. “I’ve watched you for seven months and you don’t sit still, boy. You run all the time, doing for other people. According to your mama, over Martino’s lasagna and a couple of glasses of red wine, that’s the story of your life. St. David, defender of the helpless, fixer of broken stuff.”