"Really?" Gail said, surprised, pushing her dark bob away from her face. "I'd have never guessed."
"Good," Frank said, watching Noah's face crack into a big grin. She looked over her shoulder just as she heard Kennedy's wicked drawl.
"Yes sirree, I reckoned this was where I'd find you bar rats along a Friday night."
Johnnie and Noah greeted the young detective, imitating her accent, and telling her, "Make yerself to home."
There weren't many seats available and noting her predicament, Bobby gallantly offered his. She protested but he said, "Hey, I got to be getting home. It's late as it is. Leslie's gonna bust a move on me."
Kennedy took his seat and Nancy came over with bright interest.
"Darlin'," Kennedy drawled, eyeing the waitress up and down, making her blush.
"Hi," she answered shyly, avoiding Kennedy's eye by wiping rings off the table. "Coke?"
"Por favor," the detective said in horrible Spanish.
When the waitress left, Kennedy turned her full attention to the ME.
"How ya doin', doc?"
"Fine," Gail replied, with a slight edge. The young narc held the doc's cool gaze a beat longer than necessary, then turned to Frank.
"How you been?" she asked.
Conversation drifted back to the DA's office and below the rest of the table talk Frank answered, "Good. S'up with you?"
"Nothin'," Kennedy shrugged, "Just thought I'd drop by and see what ya'll were up to."
Frank shrugged, "Working hard, hardly working."
"You taking care of yourself?" the younger woman asked, with no trace of an accent.
"You bet. And you?"
"Stayin' fit as a fiddle."
"You look it."
Kennedy leaned closer, dropping her voice even more.
"Ain't too late to change your mind, you know."
A thin smile reflected off Frank's coffee.
"Thanks, but no thanks."
"Suit yourself," Kennedy dismissed, scanning the crowded room. Spotting Nancy, she said, " 'Scuse me."
Frank watched the two women talking, joking, Kennedy's hand on Nancy's arm. Frank would have shaken her head if she were alone; the girl had moxie, and then some. Frank had ended their affair when she saw the situation with Nancy, but Kennedy had been unrepentant. She'd insisted her relationship with Frank wasn't monogamous, so what was the big deal? She still didn't understand why Frank had ended it.
Kennedy made her way back to the Nine-three table, winked at Frank, and said goodbye to the detectives. Knowing Noah was watching her, Frank refused to look at him. She finished her coffee and stayed for another round of one-upping, then dropping some bills on the table, she said, "Make sure Johnnie doesn't take this for alimony."
"Johnnie, hell," Diego answered. "Make sure Ike doesn't take it for the ponies."
"Hey, where you goin'?" Noah asked.
"Going home. Been a long week baby-sitting you guys. Doc, good to see you again," Frank said amiably. "Always nice to have fresh blood at this table."
When Gail asked, "Pun intended?" Frank answered with a rare and genuine smile.
Chapter Six
"Hey. What are you doing here?"
Noah slapped into the squad room in rubber thongs. Wearing faded red shorts and a cut-off, paint-stained sweatshirt, limbs dangling, he looked like a Southern California scarecrow.
Frank's squad worked 6:00AM to 2:00 PM, Monday through Friday, rotating on call outs after hours. Unless they'd caught a new case, Frank usually had the squad room to herself on weekends.
"Aw, Trace and Markie got the flu. I got 'em some videos and the girls are at the mall with some friends. I figured I may as well come in and get that Torres report wrapped up."
"Yeah. You're late on that. I want it by Monday."
"I know, I know. So how was your night?" Noah asked innocently, sniffing the coffee pot.
"Fine," Frank replied, equally innocent.
"Get any sleep?"
"Plenty."
Noah chuckled at her and said, "You're drivin' Johnnie batty. All these women lining up for you and he can't even get one. He was gettin' bitter last night."
"What'd he say?" Frank asked, unsettled by the vision of Johnnie rambling drunkenly about her love-life.
"Aw, nothin'. He was just thinkin' he'd do better with tits and a pony tail."
"All I got's the ponytail," Frank corrected.
"You got somethin'," Noah pressed, "I'm tellin' you — Nance, Kennedy, the doc ..."
"You'd probably make more money on Love Line than you do here, No."
"Damn right," Noah agreed. "I should be charging you a finders fee. The doc was asking questions after you left. I like this, she called you — and I quote directly — intriguingly impenetrable."
"What did she want to know?"
"If you and Kennedy were an item."
Frank raked Noah's face for signs of a joke.
"What'd you say?"
"I told her she'd have to ask you."
"Nice. Very subtle."
"What was I supposed to say?"
"Could've tried no."
"Then I'd be lying. . . wouldn't I?"
Now Noah looked for answers in Frank's stony face.
"Are you two not. . . you know . . . ?"
"No. We're not."
Frank tried to walk away, but Noah blocked her.
"Since when?"
"Since when's that any of your business?"
"It's my job to keep abreast of these things. So to speak. So since when?"
"Since a while ago," she relented. "Okay? Can I get some work done now?"
"That's perfect," Noah exclaimed. "Now you can make your move on the doc. Trust me, Frank; your efforts won't go unrewarded."
"So you keep telling me," she muttered, then to change the subject she demanded, "Listen. Guess what I did this morning."
"Let's see. You hired a hooker?"
Frank shook her ponytail. "Couldn't find one at six AM."
"You're lookin' in the wrong places," Noah suggested. "Okay. You registered for a cruise around the world."
"Cruise is partly correct."
Noah narrowed his eyes, carefully assessing Frank. The faded, neatly pressed jeans, the blue LAPD shirt, were standard weekend attire, but the battered running shoes weren't.
"Knowing you ... at six AM on a Saturday morning, you'd probably worked out already and you were probably back at work, either at home or here. But cruise is part of the answer . . . let's see. I know you're not happy that we're pinning the Estrella case on Luis . . . I'm guessing you cruised out to Topanga and did a little bush-whacking. That would explain the scratches on your arms. Correct?"
Frank chuckled, surprised, pleased, and a little embarrassed that Noah knew her so well.
"Did I hit the jackpot?"
"Three cherries, my man. Not that it did any good. All I found were ticks and gnats."
"Lucky that man-eating cougar didn't find you."
"I'm too tough. She'd have spit me out after one bite."
"So what were you lookin' for?"
"I don't know. Anything."
Frank hadn't expected to find a smoking gun, but she'd needed to see for herself where Luis Estrella had been. She'd half walked, half slid down the angled hillside, and from the surprisingly accurate LASD notes, found the exact location of the body. Searching for the anomaly in the scenery, she'd spent a couple hours crawling through prickly-leaved shrubs and poison oak.
But for a small assortment of the usual litter, it was a surprisingly clean canyon. Frank had cleared some duff to bare soil and nestled herself against a large boulder. She'd let the mild sun play over her face. Closing her eyes against it, she'd shut out the scenery and gradually deafened herself to the birdsong and bustle in the underbrush.
She'd concentrated on Luis Estrella's face, the proud picture of his tats. She imagined him in his room, at the kitchen table with his family, driving in his beat-up car. Working hard at becoming him, she'd absorbed everything she knew about him — his heroin habit, his limp, his ill health, his easy-go-lucky clownishness. She put herself in his tennis shoes and sweatshirt, on the dirty bed in the garage, scratching himself, picking at his sores.