Lopez didn’t stop walking until we reached the window where I could reclaim my possessions from the NYPD. He gave them my name and verified my release.
A moment later, a man appeared at the end of the hall. “Has anybody seen—Oh, there he is. Lopez!”
As my companion turned to look at him, I recognized the redheaded cop who’d participated in the bust at Bella Stella.
He recognized me, too. His face split in a grin. “Miss Diamond! Delighted see you again.”
I shrewdly sensed that the wiseguys weren’t the only people who’d found certain events at the restaurant vastly amusing.
Lopez asked him, “What do you want?”
“We need to finish the—”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Lopez replied. “I just need to wrap this up.”
“Do you need any . . . Oh, right. Never mind.” The cop grinned again. “I just love a happy ending.” He was chuckling as he turned and went back the way he had come.
“God, will this shift never end?” Lopez muttered in despair.
I searched my soul for some compassion but didn’t find any. Go figure.
While we waited for someone to retrieve my stuff, I asked him, “What’s going to happen to Stella?”
“In the long run, we’ll see,” he said. “Meanwhile, she’s right—she’ll be released on bail after she’s arraigned.”
“What about the restaurant?”
“It won’t be reopening for a while, Esther.” It was clear from his tone that he knew this was bad news for me. “Maybe not ever—not as Stella’s place, anyhow.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t surprised, but my heart sank, even so.
He was avoiding my eyes as he said, “You’ll have to find another job.”
“Uh-huh.” After a moment I asked, “Am I all done here? I mean, what happened to my arrest for . . . ? You know.” I made an awkward gesture indicating the cheek I had slapped.
“We’re dropping the charges.”
“Good!” I said with relief. Then: “Um, why? Napoli seemed to think that hanging would be too good for me.”
“I screwed up the arrest,” said Lopez, looking through the clerk’s window to check on progress. “This could take a few minutes. They’re understaffed tonight.”
I frowned. “What do you mean, you screwed it up?”
“Oh, I charged you with the wrong thing.” He sounded as tired as he looked. “I didn’t read you your rights. I filled out the report wrong. And so on.”
I hadn’t even noticed any of this. I’d been too upset to be aware of the whole ordeal as anything other than a surreal nightmare.
Lopez added, “I thought about sexually harassing you in front of witnesses, but that seemed like overkill. And I’ll have enough explaining to do, as it is.”
I stared at him as I realized what he was saying. “You mean you screwed up on purpose?”
“Of course it was on purpose,” he said a little testily. “Although you might not believe it, based on tonight, I’m not actually a raging incompetent.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why did you screw up?”
Now he was annoyed. “Because seeing you at the restaurant—where you weren’t supposed to be, Esther—right in the middle of my bust . . . Well, it threw me off my game. I got rattled. And then you and I devolved into some kind of insane tabloid brawl. Which I still don’t really know how . . . Wait. No. I swore I wouldn’t go there again. Not here and now.” Lopez took a deep breath and regrouped. “I’m just saying, I’m normally a lot better at my job than that.”
“Um, no, I meant, why did you screw up my arrest?”
“Oh.” He blinked. “That?”
“Yes,” I said, clinging to my patience. “That.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face before answering, as if trying to wake himself up. “Well, I saw there was no way Napoli would let you go. Not in those circumstances. He was going to bring you in tonight, no matter what.” Lopez shrugged. “So I made sure that we can’t keep you.”
Now I thought I understood. “By handling this so sloppily that you have to drop the charges?”
He nodded. “You’d have to be a much more important collar for the prosecutor to stick with this and try to press charges after the mess I’ve made of your arrest. So we’re cutting you loose.”
I remembered Napoli’s comments in the restaurant when Lopez decided to take over arresting me. “Detective Charm knew you were going to do this, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.” He looked through the window again. “Oh, good, they’ve got your stuff.”
“I don’t get it. Napoli is such a jerk. Why—”
“He’s not the easiest guy in the world to get along with,” Lopez admitted, “but he’s a good cop, and he’s fair. We’ve learned how to work with each other. Though you probably couldn’t tell, based on tonight’s performance.”
“But he can’t stand me,” I said. “So why did he let you go ahead and do this?”
“Because it’s a fair compromise all around,” Lopez said dryly. “You got to slap me, which Napoli thought I deserved. He got to make his point in front of the Gambellos about hitting a cop. And me . . . well, I guess I won’t have to explain to anyone why you’ve got a criminal record.” As he handed my stuff to me, he concluded, “See? Everyone walks away a winner.”
“Some victory,” I muttered. “No money, no job . . .” No boyfriend.
“You’ll find another job,” he said firmly. “You can do better than a mob joint that’s full of wiseguys hitting on you.”
“I liked it there,” I said grumpily.
His shoulders slumped. “I know.” His voice was soft, and he was avoiding my eyes again.
“So I guess this thing happened because of the way OCCB has been putting the Gambellos under a microscope ever since the Fenster heists first hit the news?” I said.
Lopez nodded, then said, “Now check to make sure this is everything that you had with you when you were brought in, then sign for it.”
“Miss Diamond,” said the clerk. “Here’s the rest of your belongings.”
“The rest?” I said with a puzzled frown. My server’s pouch was the only possession I’d been arrested with (and as far as I could tell, all the cash was still inside it). Then I saw what he was handing over to Lopez. “Oh! Well, that’s good, at least.”
It turned out that shortly after I was arrested, it had occurred to Ned to get my daypack and my coat from the staff room and give them to the cops, so I could be reunited with these things upon eventually being released. Lopez set my daypack on the floor and held my coat slung over one arm while telling me this. I was relieved, since this meant I wouldn’t have to go back to Little Italy and try to convince the cops to let me into the restaurant so I could remove my stuff.
It also meant I had the keys to my apartment now, so I could go straight home and collapse. I suddenly realized how exhausted I was. Without thinking, I grabbed Lopez’s wrist and looked at his watch. It was nearly five o’clock in the morning.
“Oh. No wonder I feel like a pumpkin,” I said, still holding his wrist.
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s almost morning,” I said.
But suddenly I wasn’t thinking about the time.
“I know,” he murmured.
My thoughts had shifted to how sturdy his arm felt. I hadn’t touched him in a week—except to slap him tonight.
“I wanted to release you sooner, but um . . .” His voice was a little breathless now. “But it takes some time to . . . uh . . .” He trailed off.
I looked up into his face and our eyes met. I had stepped closer to him to look at his watch. Now I realized how close. I could feel his body heat. With our gazes locked, I saw the fatigue in his dark-lashed eyes replaced by a spark of something else. Something I’d seen there before. His gaze drifted down to my lips and his breathing changed.