“You think I killed Mike?” I asked quietly, sort of horrified.
She paused again, blew smoke, and shook her head. “Not anymore. I’m not sure. I can’t figure you out, Snow.”
“Sebastian.”
“Quinn.”
“Pleasure,” I finished.
“Yeah, well,” Quinn continued. “This case is ready to rip open at the seams, and we can’t afford to have superiors or the media looking at the two of you.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m a discreet person.”
“Doesn’t fucking matter,” she replied, and I shut up.
I’ll be honest, Quinn sort of scared me. But she had an authoritative air about her like she had to fight tooth and nail for respect—polar opposite of Calvin. And I’m sure she did. She was partnered with a real-life hero, and that might have made it easy for her at times, but I hadn’t seen any other female detectives upstairs. Boys’ club.
“Don’t sniff around Calvin.”
“Does… Calvin get this same speech?” I slowly asked.
“He already did.”
I bit my tongue. She needed to give it to him again.
Quinn looked down at her cigarillo. “A police officer can’t be seen fraternizing with a person of interest. Even someone like you.”
“What does that mean? Although I’m honestly not sure I want to know.”
“I’ve only been working with Calvin for a few months,” Quinn said quietly. “And… if the situation had been different, I’d think you’d maybe be a good speed for him.”
So did she know, or was she assuming about Calvin? “Look,” I said. “I won’t lie to you. I’m gay.”
“I know.”
“Swell.”
“No straight guy stares at Calvin like you do,” Quinn said.
“Okay, well, point to you, but—”
“Calvin doesn’t have to say anything to me,” she said, finishing my thought. “If he wants to be quiet about it—and he should be—it’s for the best in our line of work. But I know.”
As if there weren’t enough red lights and sirens now telling me to back away from Calvin. The sex was fucking amazing and so was he, but it was clearly a bad idea.
I pushed my sunglasses up. “I understand.”
Chapter Ten
ELLA FITZGERALDand Louis Armstrong were singing to my soul as I entered Exotic Animal Haven on the Upper West Side after being shoved out of the police precinct by Calvin and cornered by his rightfully concerned partner.
I lingered in the doorway, letting Ella’s beautiful voice soothe my nerves. I owned quite a bit of her work on 78 records, but hadn’t been able to play them since my antique gramophone fell into disrepair. Neil had just told me to buy a replica turntable for two hundred bucks if I liked the aesthetic look so much, but that wasn’t the point.
I didn’t want a Bluetooth, USB-enabled gramophone. I wantedmine. The real McCoy that had the wear and tear from use and love. The one that needed to have needles constantly replaced to keep the records in mint condition.
Antiques speak to me. It’s not just a job.
Every little item had a story, a past. The gramophone now in a closet had seen how many owners in the last century? How many different records had it spun? What was the music that moved that person? It was all just another aspect of my life that Neil hadn’t understood.
