“I am not high,” he drawls slowly. Firmly. “I told you last week, Chief. My daughter is visiting this week, and since she is, I’m hosting dinner at my house. That night is tonight.”
“I’m not coming to dinner at your house tonight! I didn’t agree to this.”
“Janine’s already working on the menu,” he grits out. “She’s at the grocery store right now, and as of about thirty seconds ago, she received confirmation regarding the status of your allergies.”
“Justin!”
“I assure you, youarecoming to dinner at my home tonight, Chief. I expect to see you there at seven o’clock on the dot.”
“Justi—”
“Jen is in town,” he pushes on. “As is her husband.”
Yeah, no shit! He’s in my building right now.
“Ms. Solomon is in Copeland, too. I was thrilled to hear she’s not only accompanied by her husband, but by her children, too. Hosting a couple of bubbly, giggly little girls at my dinner table again will be…” He exhales a happy sigh. “It would make my entire year better.”
I swing accusing eyes back to Soph’s and glare.
“It sounds to me like your dinner table is already overflowing,” I growl. “Give my seat to one of the Bishop children, since you want so badly to spend an evening with them.”
“We have enough seats for everyone. I’ll see you at seven, Chief. Perhaps you could bring a bottle of wine.”
“You want me tobringsomething?”
Soph covers her mouth, snickering behind her hand and yelping at the stack of Post-its I snatch up and lob at her face.
“You invite me to this event,” I grit out, “demanding I come, though I’d rather not, and now you’re telling me I have to stop by a liquor store and spendmymoney on wine I probably won’t ever get to taste? What kind of hokey-ass crap is this?”
“It’s called dinner etiquette. Though I’m not surprised you don’t know this stuff, since Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood never focused on the dos and don’ts of alcohol consumption. Seven o’clock, Chief.”
“But—”
“Sharp.”
He ends our call with a click.
“What the shit!?” I drop my phone into the cradle and glare at my leastfavorite ballerina. “You jackass! You knew he was calling, and you knew damn wellwhy. Didn’t think to warn me?”
“Why would I warn you when watching you melt down is way more entertaining?” She tosses my Post-its back onto my desk and pops lithely to her feet. “Also, that time you were super cranky at me, and I kept trying to apologize with Snickers bars?” She steps around her chair and presses her hands to the back. “Snickers have peanuts, Mayet! I was trying to say sorry, but you didn’t think to tell me my offerings actually translated to ‘ha ha, I hope you die, bitch’? That’s messed up!”
“I threw your dumb candy bars in the trash, and then I said… like…” My brain still isn’t working properly! “I was saying theha ha I hope you diething to you. I tossed them and said?—”
“Yikes.” She flashes a smug grin and dances back a few feet. “Your smack talk is lame, girlfriend. One of us spent a little time on the streets, the other waffled about in a cartoon neighborhood. I’m gonna get back to work, and you can spend the rest of the afternoon practicing your comebacks and sly barbs. Then you can try them out at dinner. Tonight.”
I pick up my metal ruler and surge to my feet.
“At seven o’clock!” She darts to the door and whips it open. “Don’t forget the wine, Chief.”
ARCHER
“Ijust… I can’t believe this has happened.”
The Carpenters are a family of five, although only three sit bundled on their three-seater sofa and stare back at Banks and me. Cheryl and Peter, husband and wife, sit on either side, while their eighth-grader, Susan, is sandwiched in the middle.
Susan studies her living room with a kind of floaty, faraway look in her eyes, while Cheryl weeps and Peter glares.
“We saw her just last night. She was…” Cheryl shakily swipes heavy tears from her cheeks, and as though she simply can’t accept the information we’ve delivered, she shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”
