The sparkle turned playful and she asked loudly, “How’s Feb?”
Colt shook his head but answered, “Doin’ good.”
“She wup your ass at pool last night?”
“She took a game.”
“How many’d you have?”
“Four.”
Her smile went huge. “From what I hear, that’s four to you, one to her.”
There it was, Mimi announcing to the entire place that after years of avoidance Colt and Feb were now spending their time together playing pool. Most of them knew something was up, now Meems handed them another nuance.
It was time to put a lid on it. “Got work, Meems, can you get me an Americano?”
“Sure thing, you want a muffin?”
Colt decided to give her and his audience a bonus. “Nope, not hungry, had Feb’s frittata this mornin’.”
Mimi’s eyes got wide, she knew exactly what Feb making a frittata instead of some eggs and toast meant and she hooted, “Oowee, a February Owens Frittata Morning! Don’t tell Morrie, he’ll be pissed.”
Colt was done and his voice lowered when he said, “My coffee, Meems.”
She grinned when she replied, “Gotcha.”
When she finished his coffee and handed it to him as usual he reached for his wallet.
And as usual she said, “Colt, like I always say, money’s no good here. You serve and protect, I keep you caffeinated while you do it.”
And as usual he dug in his wallet, took out several ones and shoved them in the tip jar.
But not as usual when his fingers wrapped around the cardboard that surrounded the paper cup, Mimi didn’t let go.
“Cheerin’ for you, Colt,” she said quietly, words meant for him not her customers, “both you and Feb.”
Then she let his cup go and turned away before he could say a word.
When Colt returned to the bank, Dave was free and he didn’t hesitate in waving Colt into his glass-fronted office.
The minute Colt closed the door, Dave launched in, not sounding worried, sounding excited, f**k, the man was nearly jumping up and down in his chair. “Amy’s no call-no show today.”
Jesus, there it was. Amy was in thin air.
Colt, unlike Dave, was worried.
Seeing Angie Maroni and Marie Lowe and crime scene photos of Pete Hollister and Butch Miller would do that, considering instinct was telling him Amy was caught up in this shit. Colt barely knew her but he was learning about her and she lived her life protecting herself in a bubble of shyness. He found her hacked, he had no idea why, but it’d cut him deep.
He hid his reaction and took in Dave.
Some folk wanted nothing to do with cops or crime or crime investigation. Some did it when they had to but it was obvious they’d prefer their life had not veered down a course which would take them to a place they were involved. Some, like Dave, got off on it, their lives so small they welcomed any involvement in something bigger even if it had to do with hacked up bodies. Dave had no idea what this was about and he didn’t care. He was willing to play his role in this drama no matter what it was and he was going to play it to the full.
“Julie McCall in today?” Colt asked.
“Sure, she’s in,” Dave answered, ever helpful.
“Sorry to trouble your business, Dave, I know you’re busy but you got a place where I can talk to Julie in private?”
Dave did what Colt expected he’d do. He jumped up and rounded his desk, bobbing his head. He didn’t care if his customers had to wait in line for a teller. He just cared that his life, which was mostly the same every day and he was too lazy to do shit about it to make it better, was suddenly filled with something more important, no matter he didn’t know what that something was.
“Conference room,” Dave motioned to a big windowed room in the corner of the bank.
“Private, Dave.”
Dave’s eyes got big. “Oh! Yeah, right.” He thought about it and Colt clenched his teeth, thinking the guy was half moron. He had to know the bank like the back of his hand. “Staff room!” Dave announced. “Basement. No windows.”
Jesus, this guy was annoying him. Unfortunately, he also needed him.
Dave led Colt to the windowless, vacant room and said he’d be right back with Julie. He didn’t lie. Five minutes later Dave walked in with one of the two Julie tellers.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Dave said with extreme consideration and closed the door behind him.
Julie McCall eyed him up the way a lot of women did, interest and appreciation clear on her face and she was sure to take in his ring finger. He’d had that kind of thing all his life, even when everyone knew his mother and father were drunk and no good and even when everyone knew that he was taken by Feb or, later, Melanie.
He wasn’t interested in Julie McCall and there were a lot of reasons why. Most of them obvious but they also included the fact that she was unattractive and he knew she thought the opposite. She was lean and fit, not from being an athlete, from working out way too much to keep thin, going well past the good look of healthy to hit gaunt. She probably felt disgust for anyone overweight and had no problem saying it or showing it, mostly with her eyes, he was guessing. She was the kind to be able stare at anyone she thought inferior, do it openly and do it in a way that made them feel low. Her hair was two shades too blonde, looking false and not suiting her coloring. It was arranged in a style too young for her years and, unlike some women whose youthful personality let them not only get away with this kind of thing but it was appealing, it made her look desperate.
Colt found even though he hadn’t spoken a word to her or she to him, he didn’t like her and he couldn’t have been more surprised that Amy apparently did.
“How can I help you?” she asked, solicitous and even a bit suggestive, she had all day if he wanted to take it.
“I’m Lieutenant Alec Colton.”
She smiled and it was wincingly shrewd. “I know who you are.”
Definitely suggestive and he didn’t like that she knew who he was when he didn’t know her. But then again, most everyone in town knew him. It came with his history and with the job. The last mainly because any time Monica Merriweather reported on a case he was working and she made certain his picture was included with the article in the paper.
He motioned to the table. “If you don’t mind, Ms. McCall, I’d like to ask a few questions about Amy Harris.”
Her eyebrows shot up, she might have thought a lot of things about him wanting to talk to her but pathologically shy Amy wasn’t one of them.
Colt shook his head but answered, “Doin’ good.”
“She wup your ass at pool last night?”
“She took a game.”
“How many’d you have?”
“Four.”
Her smile went huge. “From what I hear, that’s four to you, one to her.”
There it was, Mimi announcing to the entire place that after years of avoidance Colt and Feb were now spending their time together playing pool. Most of them knew something was up, now Meems handed them another nuance.
It was time to put a lid on it. “Got work, Meems, can you get me an Americano?”
“Sure thing, you want a muffin?”
Colt decided to give her and his audience a bonus. “Nope, not hungry, had Feb’s frittata this mornin’.”
Mimi’s eyes got wide, she knew exactly what Feb making a frittata instead of some eggs and toast meant and she hooted, “Oowee, a February Owens Frittata Morning! Don’t tell Morrie, he’ll be pissed.”
Colt was done and his voice lowered when he said, “My coffee, Meems.”
She grinned when she replied, “Gotcha.”
When she finished his coffee and handed it to him as usual he reached for his wallet.
And as usual she said, “Colt, like I always say, money’s no good here. You serve and protect, I keep you caffeinated while you do it.”
And as usual he dug in his wallet, took out several ones and shoved them in the tip jar.
But not as usual when his fingers wrapped around the cardboard that surrounded the paper cup, Mimi didn’t let go.
“Cheerin’ for you, Colt,” she said quietly, words meant for him not her customers, “both you and Feb.”
Then she let his cup go and turned away before he could say a word.
When Colt returned to the bank, Dave was free and he didn’t hesitate in waving Colt into his glass-fronted office.
The minute Colt closed the door, Dave launched in, not sounding worried, sounding excited, f**k, the man was nearly jumping up and down in his chair. “Amy’s no call-no show today.”
Jesus, there it was. Amy was in thin air.
Colt, unlike Dave, was worried.
Seeing Angie Maroni and Marie Lowe and crime scene photos of Pete Hollister and Butch Miller would do that, considering instinct was telling him Amy was caught up in this shit. Colt barely knew her but he was learning about her and she lived her life protecting herself in a bubble of shyness. He found her hacked, he had no idea why, but it’d cut him deep.
He hid his reaction and took in Dave.
Some folk wanted nothing to do with cops or crime or crime investigation. Some did it when they had to but it was obvious they’d prefer their life had not veered down a course which would take them to a place they were involved. Some, like Dave, got off on it, their lives so small they welcomed any involvement in something bigger even if it had to do with hacked up bodies. Dave had no idea what this was about and he didn’t care. He was willing to play his role in this drama no matter what it was and he was going to play it to the full.
“Julie McCall in today?” Colt asked.
“Sure, she’s in,” Dave answered, ever helpful.
“Sorry to trouble your business, Dave, I know you’re busy but you got a place where I can talk to Julie in private?”
Dave did what Colt expected he’d do. He jumped up and rounded his desk, bobbing his head. He didn’t care if his customers had to wait in line for a teller. He just cared that his life, which was mostly the same every day and he was too lazy to do shit about it to make it better, was suddenly filled with something more important, no matter he didn’t know what that something was.
“Conference room,” Dave motioned to a big windowed room in the corner of the bank.
“Private, Dave.”
Dave’s eyes got big. “Oh! Yeah, right.” He thought about it and Colt clenched his teeth, thinking the guy was half moron. He had to know the bank like the back of his hand. “Staff room!” Dave announced. “Basement. No windows.”
Jesus, this guy was annoying him. Unfortunately, he also needed him.
Dave led Colt to the windowless, vacant room and said he’d be right back with Julie. He didn’t lie. Five minutes later Dave walked in with one of the two Julie tellers.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Dave said with extreme consideration and closed the door behind him.
Julie McCall eyed him up the way a lot of women did, interest and appreciation clear on her face and she was sure to take in his ring finger. He’d had that kind of thing all his life, even when everyone knew his mother and father were drunk and no good and even when everyone knew that he was taken by Feb or, later, Melanie.
He wasn’t interested in Julie McCall and there were a lot of reasons why. Most of them obvious but they also included the fact that she was unattractive and he knew she thought the opposite. She was lean and fit, not from being an athlete, from working out way too much to keep thin, going well past the good look of healthy to hit gaunt. She probably felt disgust for anyone overweight and had no problem saying it or showing it, mostly with her eyes, he was guessing. She was the kind to be able stare at anyone she thought inferior, do it openly and do it in a way that made them feel low. Her hair was two shades too blonde, looking false and not suiting her coloring. It was arranged in a style too young for her years and, unlike some women whose youthful personality let them not only get away with this kind of thing but it was appealing, it made her look desperate.
Colt found even though he hadn’t spoken a word to her or she to him, he didn’t like her and he couldn’t have been more surprised that Amy apparently did.
“How can I help you?” she asked, solicitous and even a bit suggestive, she had all day if he wanted to take it.
“I’m Lieutenant Alec Colton.”
She smiled and it was wincingly shrewd. “I know who you are.”
Definitely suggestive and he didn’t like that she knew who he was when he didn’t know her. But then again, most everyone in town knew him. It came with his history and with the job. The last mainly because any time Monica Merriweather reported on a case he was working and she made certain his picture was included with the article in the paper.
He motioned to the table. “If you don’t mind, Ms. McCall, I’d like to ask a few questions about Amy Harris.”
Her eyebrows shot up, she might have thought a lot of things about him wanting to talk to her but pathologically shy Amy wasn’t one of them.
