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“Lieutenant, a guy that pretty couldn’t never get the drop on the chief,” Taylor said.
“Somebody did,” Szabo said. “Somebody with a beard.” He looked around at the other men. “Can you think of anybody else who fits?”
They were silent for another minute.
“Okay,” Taylor said at last. “So what do we do about this guy?”
Szabo nodded. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said, and the others leaned in closer to hear.
* * *
—
Ihave to admit,” Randall said, “I have never been to a more exciting opening.” He sat in an all-glass alcove in their kitchen, used as their breakfast nook, with Katrina seated across from him and empty breakfast dishes pushed to one side.
Katrina frowned. The morning sun was in her eyes, underlining the fact that she’d had too much champagne and not enough sleep. She reached for the rheostat that controlled the SmartGlass windows. The sun was climbing above the trees now, and it was much too bright. Katrina twisted the dial and darkened the tint of the windows a point, then another. “I could have used less excitement,” she said, still frowning. She sipped her coffee and held up the morning paper. “The Times was not impressed.”
Randall shrugged. “Not to worry,” he said. “I’m sure the Post will love it.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Katrina said. She sighed, then smiled slightly. “Although it was almost worth it to see the look on Erik’s face.”
Randall snorted. “I didn’t know he had any other emotions aside from disapproval,” he said.
“Of course he does,” Katrina said. “There’s shock and anger.”
“And now the face he pulled last night. What would you call it?”
“Hm,” Katrina said. “Maybe nauseated disapprobation?”
Randall nodded and sipped. “Mm,” he said. “I like it.”
They were silent for a moment. “But my God, poor Angela,” Katrina said. “She must be a wreck!”
“Her boyfriend even more so,” Randall said. “He’s dead.”
“It’s just hard to picture Angela with that, that . . .” She shook her head.
“You
can’t say it?” Randall said. “Speak no ill of the dead?”
“Something like that.”
“Well,” Randall said. “Everybody loves somebody sometime.”
“I’m not sure it’s love if it happens in a utility closet,” Katrina said.
“That’s right, we haven’t tried it, so—”
“Randall, stop,” Katrina said. “I mean, the man is dead.”
“No argument there,” he said. He glanced at his watch. “Oops. I’m late.”
“Late for what?” Katrina said as he stood up.
“Oh—in all the excitement, I forgot to tell you,” he said. “I’m going up to an auction house upstate—Busby’s?”
“Never heard of them,” Katrina said.
