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“I don’t think his vigilance is that adolescent.”
“What else could it be?”
“He wants to make sure you’re accessible. He may need you yet.”
She frowned. He asked her why.
“Well, it’s just that…I’ve listened to everything you’ve said, and I would put absolutely nothing past Rusty. He’s a moral cesspool and famous for his machinations.”
“But?”
“But if he were establishing me as an alibi for some wrongdoing that night, why didn’t he take me up on my offer to drive him to the hospital? Why didn’t he parade me through the ER and make certain that we were seen together?”
&nb
sp; “You were in place to use on an as-needed basis. The story about me, too. As it turned out, he didn’t need either.” After a strategic pause, he said, “It would be useful to know how Rusty explained his injuries to the ER staff who treated him. I was wondering if…”
Her brow arched suspiciously. “What?”
“If Marty might help me with that.”
“Ledge—”
“I know, I know. Awkward.”
As though on cue, they heard a car pulling into the drive. Ledge checked his wristwatch. “Twenty past eleven. Right on time.” He looked at Crystal. “What about it?”
She sighed. “You can ask. But do so at your own peril.”
They heard the jangle of a key ring, then the snick of the lock. Marty came in, dressed in blue scrubs printed with the Ghostbusters logo. She tossed her purse onto the entry table. “This is a cozy scene. Am I interrupting?”
Crystal said, “Actually, we were just talking about you.”
“I hope it was something salacious.” She crossed over to the sofa, bent down, and kissed Crystal on the lips. “Hello, you.”
Chapter 22
Crystal smiled up at Marty. “Hello back. How was your shift?”
As Marty straightened up, she arched her back in a deep stretch. “Long. Depressing. I hate sick people.”
“Great attitude for a nurse to have,” Ledge said.
“When I chose my career path, I didn’t yet know that I had an aversion to the afflicted. Now, I stick with it for balance.” She weighed one hand against the other. “Misery at work. Happiness at home.”
Crystal smiled up at her. “Pour a drink and join us.”
She did so, then slumped in the upholstered chair adjacent to the corner of the sofa in which Crystal sat. She toed off her shoes and propped her stocking feet in Crystal’s lap.
“You were talking about me? What about me? My pink stripe?” She shook her platinum, pixie-cut hair, showing off the neon strip in her bangs.
“Fetching,” Ledge said. “I’ve thought about having Crystal paint one in my hair.”
“Not your color. It would clash with that bloody cut on your face.”
Ledge merely gave her wry smile. Under her breath, Crystal warned her partner that it would be best not to pursue that topic.
Ledge had come to like Marty Camp. She was one of the few people he was comfortable teasing with, but one had to tease back in order to survive her acerbic jibes.
