Detective Defender. Marilyn Pappano
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he’s on his way to get him. And Martine’s decided to share some information with him that she didn’t give earlier.”
Alia grinned. “She’s going to be disappointed when you show up instead of Jack. Maybe you should politely remind her that the sooner she tells you everything, the sooner she’ll be rid of you.”
“Yeah. Though I don’t think she’s gonna fall for anything polite after I called her a liar a couple hours ago.” He stood and shrugged into his overcoat. He hated the coat; it was constrictive and awkward when he was running or needed to draw his pistol or Taser. He could dress down, like most of his fellow detectives, but he shared one quirk with Jack: work clothes meant shirt, coat and tie. Old-fashioned but respectful of the job and the victims and the families they dealt with.
“Aw, Jimmy.” Alia stood and straightened his collar for him. “I’d chastise you, but you’ve seen me do worse with an uncooperative witness. Just remember, she’s also our friend.”
Not his friend, he thought as he waved to Landry, then walked out onto the street. At the time they’d met and almost made it to bed together, he hadn’t cared about having female friends. But, like he said, he’d gotten over himself since then. He had more than a few female friends now. It said an awful lot for Alia that she was one of them.
When he reached Martine’s store, he wiggled and jiggled the swollen door to open it, stepped inside and reached back to close it. When his fingers wrapped around the knob, electricity jolted through them, minor, little more than static but enough to make him jerk his hand away and swear softly.
“What happened?”
He glanced from his hand to Anise, still looking as gloomy as the weather, even though a spark of interest lit her black-rimmed eyes. “I got shocked.”
“Hmm. That wasn’t the effect I was going for. I’ll have to try again.” Turning without a sound, she disappeared into the depths of the store as if he was no longer there. A lesson she’d learned from her boss, probably.
His nose wrinkling against the particularly strong odors of the incense on the shelf beside him, he headed for the central counter. The kid slumped over a textbook there straightened to his full height of six foot four, maybe five. He was thin, long-necked, long-armed, long-legged, long-haired and apparently short on words. No Can I help you? or How are you today? He just stood there, giving Jimmy a long steady owl-like gaze, and waited.
Jimmy showed the kid his badge. “Martine?”
The kid lifted his gaze to the ceiling, then accompanied it with one long thin finger pointing straight up.
“Niles, we’re not supposed to talk to that guy,” Anise called from the back. “Don’t tell him where Martine is.”
Niles, poor guy, turned red and very slowly folded that finger back down, then hid his hands behind his back for good measure.
Jimmy grinned at him and went back out the front door. Once again, when he touched the knob to close the door, a shock fired through his fingers. It might not be painful, but it was going to become annoying pretty damn quickly.
He stepped across from one stoop to the other and was about to ring the doorbell when the door opened with a haunted-house-worthy creak. The hair on his neck stood on end, and his hand was already sliding beneath his coat to the .40 holstered on his belt before the thought even crossed his mind. He stilled when a woman with wild hair and pink glasses popped out from behind the door.
“Did I startle you? I’m Ramona.” She squeezed by, then patted his arm. “Go on up, Detective Murphy. She’s waiting.”
She was definitely expecting Jack. Jimmy was going to piss her off this time just by walking into the room. But that was okay, because this time he wasn’t leaving without some answers.
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