Page 20 of D for Dead

Opposite her, Alan cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. ‘Becky, are you going to introduce your friend?’

‘Becky?’ Hickok nearly spat the bread out. ‘Since when did you start going by Becky?’

Rebecca scowled, her flaming cheeks matching her dress. She hadn’t seen Joel Hickok in six years, yet he thought it was perfectly acceptable to waltz back into her life and start insulting her. Reining in her temper and not wanting him to see how flustered she was, she made the introductions.

‘Alan, this is Joel Hickok. He’s an FBI agent I worked with a few years back.’ She didn’t add that she’d also had a six-week fling with him at the end of their investigation. Alan did not need to know that. ‘Hickok, this is Alan, my boyfriend.’ She emphasised the last word for Hickok’s benefit.

The two men shook hands, appraising each other.

‘FBI agent? Really.’ Alan was impressed, but then it didn’t take much. He watched a lot of CSI and had been blown away when he’d first met Rebecca and some of her detective friends.

The waiter returned to take their order. He glanced at Hickok, then Rebecca and Alan.

‘Will this gentleman be joining you for dinner?’ he asked.

Rebecca started to say no, but Hickok was already talking over the top of her.

‘Yeah, sure, and I’ll have what she’s having,’ he told the waiter, pointing to Rebecca’s bottle of Heineken.

Rebecca was fuming. How dare he come in here and hijack their dinner. She glanced at Alan and shrugged her shoulders by way of apology, but he seemed unperturbed, gratified to be in the presence of an FBI agent.

‘FBI. Wow, that must be an interesting career,’ he was gushing.

Hickok leaned back in his chair, lapping up the attention. ‘So, Adam.’

‘Alan.’

‘Sorry, Alan. You’ve never fancied a career in law enforcement?’

Alan almost blushed. ‘Oh no, I don’t think I’d be cut out for a job like that.’

‘You don’t say. So what line of business are you in?’

‘Oh, I’m in plastics.’

‘What, you’re a surgeon?’ Hickok shot Rebecca a look, sticking another piece of crust in his mouth. ‘Moving up in the world, eh, Angell? Little bit different to six years ago, pizza and your couch.’ He winked and Rebecca flushed scarlet.

‘No, no…’ Alan jumped in, so eager to correct he was oblivious to Hickok’s insinuation. ‘I run a plastics firm. We do picnicking mostly. You know; plastic glasses, plastic plates and plastic cutlery. We’re planning a plastic decanter for this year’s range.’

Hickok threw another look at Rebecca, a sly smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Ignoring him, she took a long swig of beer.

‘So what’s the job, Hickok? Why are you in Juniper? Is Max with you?’

‘No, no, Max isn’t with me. He retired, bought a condo down in Miami. I have a new partner.’ The way he emphasised the word ‘new’ suggested he wasn’t particularly impressed.

The waiter returned with his beer and Hickok picked up the bottle, mirroring her as he took a swig; it didn’t escape Rebecca’s attention that Alan never berated him for not using a glass.

‘You’ve got a couple of dead kids we’ve been asked to take a look at.’

Rebecca felt her heart sink.

‘Are you talking about the church murders? But that’s my investigation.’

Hickok stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. She couldn’t figure out if he already knew that.

‘It’s Senator Hogan’s nephew. He’s been pulling strings at the top; wants the FBI personally involved.’