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Birds sat expectantly on nearby bushes and light poles. The bird issue was large enough that the restaurant had resorted to putting sugar and other condiments in plastic containers to keep them from being carried off.
The other tables were occupied and the conversations loud. They were talking real estate at one table. At another, I heard a man say, “The bankers got away with the crime of the century and my family lost almost everything. I don’t blame Peralta if he decided to cash in.”
I didn’t know any of the other diners, a good thing that day. My partner was front-page news. I was nobody. We were also the only diners reading a newspaper. It was unsettling…say, if you hoped to sustain a civilization or democracy.
Lindsey asked if I could stand talking about the “gem heist.” I nodded.
“You’re convinced Peralta is working deep cover.”
“Yes.”
She studied me. “Even though this new SAC you met said it’s not true.”
“He wouldn’t tell me. He might not know himself.”
The server brought our food with the place’s customary efficiency. Lindsey had soft-scrambled eggs, bacon, and tomatoes in place of an English muffin. I had my usual Sun Devil omelet.
Lindsey ran her finger along another headline: “Texting While Driving, Woman Impaled Through Buttocks.”
She said, “So, History Shamus, if Peralta really is on a case, wouldn’t he have let you know beforehand? Somehow?”
I hadn’t thought this through last night. Now I was glad she was encouraging it.
After a bite and some reflection, I said, “Not if it came up suddenly. He went into the office early yesterday, same as always. He texted me at nine to say he was going on a diamond run. By the time I got there, he was gone.”
“Peralta texted?”
“Old dog, new tricks.”
“Had he texted you before?”
I stopped with the fork in midair, then set it back on the plate. No, he had never texted before. I hadn’t thought much of it because I was getting ready for the day and he had done half-a-dozen of these diamond jobs since we had become private detectives.
“So all you know is that the text came from his phone.”
“True.” I chewed eggs and second thoughts.
She ate and talked at the same time without it ever seeming unladylike. But I was partial.
“So if it was him, and this new undercover case came up suddenly, and all he could do was text you…” She paused. “That doesn’t make sense for him. Not somebody who has never texted before. Somebody like that will stick with habit and call. The next you know, the FBI shows up at the office with a search warrant. That’s the first you heard of the robbery.”
“Yes.”
“They interviewed you there, right?”
“Two hours worth, while they went through the files. Some nerd spent time with Peralta’s computer before taking it.”
“We nerds are useful, History Shamus. It’s curious they didn’t take your computer.”
“That made me think this was all for show.” I glanced at the newspaper. Maybe releasing his name to the press was for show, too. They didn’t release Peralta’s involvement yesterday when someone might have identified him driving to Ash Fork.
“So he leaves you a message on the first business card. Don’t try to find him.”
I nodded.
She put her hand lightly on mine. “I know you’re tired, love, but if he really is undercover, shouldn’t you leave this alone? If you muck around digging into the case, you might put it at risk and endanger him.”
“You mean, be a hotdog.”
