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“This is sort of official, honey.”
“Did he offer you something to drink?” she said, ignoring him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sir, I have no objection to Mrs. Richards hearing what I have to ask,” Matt said.
“I surrender,” Richards said. “This is Olivia Lassiter- Detective Olivia Lassiter-and this is Sergeant Payne.”
They shook hands.
“My husband said you were here about that pervert he caught last night,” Bev Richards said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All the way from Philadelphia?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I really want to hear about this,” she said. “But will it wait until I make you something to drink?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Matt said.
“What’ll it be?” Richards asked.
“Whatever you’re having will be fine, sir.”
“You may want to reconsider,” Bev said. “What he drinks is something he calls a scotch martini.”
Matt and Olivia looked at each other and smiled.
He saw that Richards had seen the smile and didn’t like it. “You
make a martini, except no vermouth, and with scotch?” Matt asked.
“Right.”
“That would be fine with us, sir. I just taught Oliv… Detective Lassiter to drink those. Except with Irish.”
“See, wiseass?” Colonel Richards said to his wife.
“They’re the drink of choice at a bar where we go,” Matt said.
“You mean you and her, or the other homicide cops?” Richards asked.
“She, and me, and the other homicide cops,” Matt said.
“Oh, God, I’ll never hear the end of that,” Bev Richards said.
“You want me to make enough for you, or are you going to continue to be difficult?”
“Make the damn scotch martinis,” Bev Richards said. “I can’t wait to hear what he’s going to ask you.”
“I can make the drinks and talk at the same time, just like I can chew gum and walk at the same time. What do you want to know, Sergeant?”
“Actually, sir, I’d like to ask you what happened. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to get our conversation on my tape recorder.”
Richards frowned, and for a moment Matt thought he might say no.
