Fernando wrapped one arm around her, kissing her head. “What about Room 10? That couple who complained about everything?”
“I have an idea about them. I need you to ask Google. Can she tell me when the Brustkrebs Ball happens? It’s not marked on our calendar downstairs.”
“Google isn’t a she.”
“Sorry. Can you askMr.Google when—”
“Not what I meant, and it isn’t necessary. The Breast Cancer Ball’s on Wednesday. I saw a poster.”
“Okay. Then the day after tomorrow, we find Mrs. Boring. As for tonight, I have to go. I have plans,” she said.
“Good, you need a distraction.”
He wouldn’t have been as encouraging if she’d revealed whom she was meeting.
She kissed him goodbye,Bussi, Baba, and left him to glitter-glue to his heart’s content. She needed to change, because her outfit wasn’tnearlyslutty enough for the occasion.
— 22 —Zweiundzwanzig
The sky was a starless, miserable, January gray. The Volksgarten park was closed,more or less.The chain rattled against the gate as the guard locked Sterling inside. He tossed her the key. “Have Harry drop it in my mailbox.”
“Will do,” said Sterling.
The rose garden lights automatically switched off at ten. They blinked out in time to Sterling’s steps as evening unrolled an onyx carpet towards the end of the hedge-lined alley, where Harry leaned against an unlit streetlamp.
The distant glow from the Rathaus cast the fence’s striped shadow onto her path, tracing a series of lines for Sterling to cross.
A mix of rain and snow glinted on Harry’s frayed felt coat. Drops rolled off the brim of her newsboy cap, her smug expression crinkling her eyes. A low growl escaped her throat, like a wolf spotting an easy meal. As Sterling reached the path’s end, she considered leaning in for a kiss.
Harry didn’t think about it.
She ran her fingers through Sterling’s hair, pulling her in withoutso much as a hello. That’s how things always went with these two,more or less.
Harry stepped back and offered Sterling her elbow, and they paced a circle around the park. Sterling longed to linger, silently wandering between empty fountains and barren rosebushes, their stems scarfed in burlap for winter. But the hollow pang in her stomach reminded her there were questions to be asked.
“So, what happened that night at the bar?” asked Sterling.
“Damn, buy me dinner first if you expect me to give it up.”
Sterling glared. Harry caved.
“Hedy’s guy, Goldfinch, arrived before her. He was peculiar, but too much money does that to a man. It didn’t faze me.”
“Speaking of his money, that detective took his wallet. Nabbed it, really.”
Anger flashed in Harry’s eyes, a spark that she stifled, swallowing. Her voice deepened: “You looked a little taken with that detective. Almost makes me jealous,” she said, grasping a fistful of Sterling’s hair, tilting her head back. Icy water dripped off Harry’s hat onto Sterling’s cheeks.
“You’re not the jealous type.”
Harry’s nose twitched. Maybe from curiosity or a craving for the drugs in her breast pocket. She released her grip. “I saidalmost, sweetheart.”
“I’m loath to admit this about any man, let alone a cop, but he’s clever.”
“Listen, kid, I’ve got enough problems without having to cover for you letting Officer Sticky-Fingers slip his palm down your pocket. I can’t have him coming back to the bar asking questions. Not surprised he’s handsy, though. He stared at you like he was interested in more than an interrogation.”
“It wasn’t like that, and he didn’t get everything. This fell outof the wallet. What is it?” she asked, revealing the coin bearing the image of a bird in a crown of leaves.
Harry swiped it from her palm. “Put that away,” she snarled, snatching Sterling’s wrist, her grip brutal. Harry’s dilated pupils jittered. She’d overdone the uppers today.
