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“Are there any suspects besides this Bruno character?”
“No,” she said, “and I can’t concentrate too much on him, because I have personal issues with him that might cloud my judgment.”
Teddy didn’t ask what they were. “Ms. Cade, as long as I’m not a suspect, is there any reason why you and I couldn’t have dinner this evening?” He looked at his watch. “It’s past six, and I don’t mind dining a little early.”
“Neither do I,” she said. “There’s a very good restaurant called Carmel’s just over there,” she said, pointing across the parking lot.
They had no trouble getting a table so early, and soon they had drinks and were perusing the menu. Teddy wondered how old she was: midthirties, he guessed. He also wondered how she felt about older men.
“Mr. Smithson…” she began.
“Please, call me Jack.”
“And I’m Lauren. How old are you?”
He smiled. “I’m sixty.”
“I had thought a bit younger,” she said.
“I think of myself as younger. And you?”
“I’m thirty-eight,” she said. “And I think of myself as older.”
“That’s odd,” Teddy observed.
“I suppose it is,” she agreed.
“Have you had a hard life?”
“Not particularly,” she said. “I’ve had some rough moments.”
“So have we all, some rougher than those of others. How did you come to be a state police officer?”
“I came from a family who had little, and I joined the army as a means of getting a college education. I majored in criminology, and I applied for Officer Candidacy School with an eye toward the military police. I served for fourteen years, then left and applied to the Florida State Police.”
“Were you disappointed in the army as a career?”
“On the contrary, I liked it and thought I would do the full thirty years.”
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say I was disappointed in some of the officers I served with.”
Teddy felt he shouldn’t question her too closely about that. If she wanted to talk about it she would. “My life was more mundane,” he said. “I did an apprenticeship as a machinist after high school, and then started inventing gadgets, mostly kitchen stuff. Somewhat to my surprise I was able to make a good living at it. I married, and she died four years ago of ovarian cancer. No kids.”
“I didn’t marry,” Lauren said. “The only men I met were army officers, and they always seemed to be either just timeservers or too ambitious to be promoted.”
They talked on over their dinners and shared a bottle of wine. When they were done, he walked her back to her car.
“Am I too old for you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” she replied.
“Then may we have dinner again?”
“I’d like that.”
“Perhaps tomorrow night?”
