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“Well, this is just hearsay, since I’m clearly not Detective Fletcher, nor do I have the authority to do such digging, but I know for a fact the restaurant across the street gets their uniforms from a place downtown called The Stitch.” She pauses and wrinkles her nose. “A little cliché for me, but whatever. The Stitch provides all sorts of uniforms to the public sector. Servers, transport, post, even nurse’s scrubs and the like. Both of our vics, so far, wear uniforms that just so happen to be supplied by the same place.” She looks down her body. “Even our scrubs come from there. Not these,” she grins and gestures to her jeans. “This genius is all me. But the scrubs the George Stanley provide us come from there.”
“Do Detectives Fletcher and Malone know about this connection?”
“Uh huh.” She brings her soda up and sips. “Fletch and I were discussing it a little while ago. They both know I know.”
“And what are they doing about it?”
Her shoulders bounce with soft laughter. “Well, Captain, I ‘spect they’ll head on down there at some point today to see what’s up.”
The phone on my desk trills, loud enough to make me jump in my seat. Aubree continues to sit. To sip. To smirk like she thinks everything is hilarious.
With a huff, I reach across my desk and snag the phone. “Doctor Mayet.”
“Hi, I have Miranda London on line two for you.”
“Ha.” I push up to stand, even with the handset pressed to my ear. “Tell her I’m not available.”
“Send you an email?”
“Yup!” I shove Aubree off my desk with a firm push. “Tell her to email me. Bye.” Hanging up, I glance up to find Aubree scowling because she got a splash of soda on hergeniusjeans. “Move.”
“You didn’t have to push me!”
“I said move.” I swing around my desk and grab my coat on the way out the door. “And if you wore scrubs to work like you’re supposed to, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Says the woman who wears sexy librarian clothes every single day.” She beats me to the elevator by a step and smacks the call button. “Where are we going?”
“To The Stitch. I’ll call the cops on the way.”
“Oh, excellent. And since we’re going, do you remember that pay raise we discussed on your first day on the job?” The moment the doors open, Aubree steps in ahead of me and hits the button for the garage. “Remember how we’re all underpaid and need you to fix that nonsense before we strike?”
“Sure…” I step out when the doors open again, and make my way toward the driver’s side of the car I’ve kind of taken possession of since coming to work here. “You said I had a month to settle in first.”
“True. I said that. But now we’re going to The Stitch.”
Starting the car, I frown and head toward the exit. “You… want money for scrubs?”
“No, but just two doors down from The Stitch is a place that has these mega sexy boots I wanna buy. And since we’re gonna be on that side of the city anyway…”
* * *
Parking in Copeland isn’t as bad as parking in New York City. But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t take us the better part of forty-five minutes to get to our destination and stash the car somewhere that won’t get us a fine.
Not even I, with my connections to the local police department, can avoid fines and taxes.
“The Stitch first?” Climbing out of the passenger side into the bitter cold wind, Aubree pushes her hair back when the breeze whips it across her face. “Or Ombre? Because I’m just saying, the boots might sell out before we—”
“The Stitch.” Slamming my door shut and beeping the locks with the key fob, I scowl at Aubree as she bolts to meet me at the front of the car. “We’re not here for personal shopping, Emeri.”
“But it’s so close.” Falling into step on my left, she digs her hands into her oversized puffer jacket and bounces to keep warm. “We’ll literally walk past it to get where we’re going. At that point, passing by without stopping is simply cruel and unusual punishment.”
“So maybe we’ll stop by, but I’ll buy something for myself. You’ll have to wait outside.”
“Cruel,” she repeats on a growl. “Not cool, Mayet. Fine, since we’re not shopping, I demand you tell me what’s happening with you and Malone.”
I scoff as we cross the street and step up onto the block we’re looking for. “I don’t gossip about romance with my colleagues.”
“So you admit there’s romance to be had?”
