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I shook my head, disgusted.
The smile quivered, then came back. “I heard you bought a house. Done with the cop, right? Finally come to your senses? Come on, Liz. We make a great team.”
I turned and walked out, ignoring him when he called after me. I knew I’d probably dodged a bullet, working with Cash would have been a minefield, but I’d started to invest in that community center, saw Molly heading up the theater, felt good about getting some of the Over-the-Hill people into decent apartments to make up for what my uncle had done to them, the same way I’d started to rehab the house in my head before I’d bought it.
Damn it, I could havefixedthe factory and its awful history.
I got in my car just as Cash appeared in the doorway, calling to me. I drove back to the Shady Rest to meet Vince for dinner.
I could havefixed that.
CHAPTER 29
At seven, I stopped by the Shady Rest to get Liz, and we left for JB’s Bar and Grill (the Grill part was new). I needed food and Liz, not necessarily in that order. She was distracted, quiet, so I figured I’d get one of Jill’s tenderloins in her and then pry what was wrong out of her. A week ago, I’d have left her to her thoughts, figuring they were none of my business, but after the week we’d had, I was all about communication.
JB’s reminded me a bit of the neighborhood bar in the Bronx, just around the corner from the house where my old man used to hold court and tell cop stories. And then stagger home drunk, occasionally as a prelude to a fight. Except JB’s was nicer and the only cop in the place was me. It was basically a long room with a bar that stretched half the length of the place and booths along the opposite side and the front. There were two pool tables at one end and a small dance floor behind that in the back. Cash had held his boring bachelor party there.
When we came in, Will, Ken, and Patsy Porter were at a table with Jason Leotta, Anemone’s construction foreman, and Neil, Ken’s boyfriend.
I also noted, because I always scope a room completely, a bunch of Vermillion Inc. construction guys, who weren’t hard to spot because they wore bright red t-shirts with VERMILLION INC stenciled on them. I suppose this keen power of observation is part of why I had been promoted to detective. They were like my COP t-shirt. Which reminded me that I’d given up trying to get back my COP t-shirt from Liz. I’d promised to trade it to her for our first night together, but she’d turned me down, and then I’d given her my shirt anyway. She was sly and cunning and bore considerable watching, as we used to say in the Rangers. She was a t-shirt black hole. Not that I was complaining, as more often than not I ended up peeling them off her. I really liked her t-shirts and even more, her in them. And out of them. Okay, she could keep it. I had a spare anyway.
I glanced at Jill, JB’s manager and bartender, and she flashed me two fingers. It was part of our secret code. Like doctors evaluate pain on a scale of one to ten, she let me know her estimation of the potential for trouble on the same scale. A two was no sweat and for all I knew, given what Bartlett had said at the meeting, I was the cause of the two, but I didn’t think so.
Ken waved us over and we grabbed more chairs and joined forces.
Dani the waitress swung by and took our orders, glaring at Liz as usual. Dani was too young for me, plus she worked at JB’s and I wasn’t stupid enough to date anybody who worked at a place I hit every day, and now that Liz was sitting next to me most nights, I had no interest in other women, but Dani had evidently decided that a worn-out cop in his thirties was just what she wanted, and she wasn’t giving up. Flattering, but no.
I sat between Liz and Patsy. I tried to recall and couldn’t remember seeing Patsy in here before. She was a workaholic who spent her time on the computer with her spreadsheets of parts and inventory at the garage. She was a pretty, petite brunette, her hair usually up and practical but tonight it was down, curls on her shoulders, and I realized this was Patsy when she wasn’t working. Whenever she saw me, she was the great stone face, but today she seemed happy, maybe because they’d been talking about the future of that garage. Patsy lived for that garage.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked Will.
He smiled. “We finished the second garage today. We still have to put in the lifts and some other heavy equipment, but we’ll be ready for more customers soon. I’ve already hired three more mechanics.”
“We’re going to hire two more,” Patsy said, which was a surprisingly optimistic take from her. “A night guy for the tow truck and emergency repairs. And rotating covering weekends, vacation time, and normal workflow. We want to keep every bay working.”
“Congratulations,” I said, happy that something was going right. With Patsy on top of the finances and Will supervising the repairs, Porter’s Garage was going to be more profitable than ever.
I was not going to tell them that their brother had hired Mickey Pitts to burn down the family business so he could buy it at a discount. They were already furious with him for putting their mother in debt, and I had no proof, although I also had no doubt they’d believe me. They were happy right now, so I let them be.
Liz began talking with Jason about plans for her house—Olivia had evidently gone over everything with him already, a woman on a mission—and I began to get the feeling there was a lot of work ahead in the sledgehammer department. I also realized my work in the Big Chef had been minimal at best. There was a lot more to having a home than a bed, a place to eat, and a bathroom. Who knew?
I wondered how Liz would feel about some early morning sledging in her place but discarded it fast because it was petty, along with painting her bedroom white while she was asleep. From now on, all the bedrooms in my life were blue.
Olivia came in, smiling at us all, and that’s when Jill made us move to a bigger table, three of her usual tables pushed together since it was only a matter of time until Mac showed up, probably with his brother and Crys, and then there was always the possibility of Molly and Raina. Which is when I realized I’d accumulated a group, which meant my reputation as a loner was going to take a hit. Well, Liz had pretty much demolished that already, but not as bad as having ten or twelve people who yelled, “Vince!” when I walked into the bar. Which they hadn’t done yet, but I had a sense that was getting to be inevitable. And then I’d have to talk to people and, hell, what was my life coming to?
My emotional musings were interrupted when the doors swung open and eight Iron Wolves swaggered in wearing their vests, but unarmed. Pete OneTree wasn’t with them which I took as a bad sign since he seemed to be the adult in any room the Wolves were in, even if he probably did order Mickey Pitts killed and might have run Jim Pitts off the road. They looked us over, then meandered over to the construction guys, with lots of fist bumps and loud, profane greetings. Manly men stuff.
I glanced at Jill, but she was busy filling drink orders. I looked around the table and everyone was laughing, enjoying themselves, except for me and Jason Leotta, who was also keeping an eye on the Wolves. Since Jason was the size of a small building and on my side, I tried to stop worrying. Which never works, although it helped when Mac ambled in late, still in his firefighter blues, and sat down next to Olivia, who leaned in closer. He didn’t move away, so evidently he was all right with being Everest tonight.
“Vince,” Liz said, distracting me from trying not to worry. “Jason wants to come out and look at the house. He said that Olivia has good ideas but wants to see for himself. Do you want to be there or should I just take notes?”
“I’ll be there. Just let me know when.”
She leaned closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She gave me a you’re-lying-through-your-teeth exasperated look. “I know you better than that. Are you upset about the house?”
