I'll Be Seeing You. Beverly Bird
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with Plattsmier on that one.” But a smile kept twitching at one corner of Raphael’s mouth.
“No need. I’m wearing a watch.” Fox looked at it and gave a groan that almost vibrated with pleasure. “Three more hours with the rookie.”
The brass hadn’t broken up other partnerships to cover a one-month suspension. They’d brought up a Homicide wannabe to replace Raphael during his time-out without pay. Raphael knew all about it. He and Fox spoke every other night or so.
There was an odd sound from the brunette. They both glanced her way.
“What?” Raphael demanded. Starch, drawn-up shoulders and that sound she’d just made. Like a tsk. All of it was like sandpaper on his nerve endings. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re having a kaffeeklatsch,” she murmured. “But a man’s dead.”
“We’ll take care of him, ma’am,” Fox said politely. He looked at Raphael, then he tilted his head in the direction of the brunette. “She was in the kitchen when it went down. Why don’t you deal with her? Under the circumstances, I’d better handle the scene myself.”
Raphael nodded. Anything he found in the house would be inadmissible in court. He wasn’t back on the payroll yet.
“An excellent approach,” said a baritone from the doorway.
Raphael felt something wither deep in his gut. It was Plattsmier. He turned slowly, edgily, to face his captain.
“I could order you off the scene,” the man said.
Raphael gritted his teeth. “What would be the point?”
“I’d make the commissioner smile.”
Raphael snarled. The sound was out before he could bite it back. Fox put a warning hand on his shoulder, but Plattsmier only nodded sadly.
“You still don’t get it,” his captain said.
“Sure I do. Thirty days.” Raphael bit out the words. “A chunk of change. What’s not to understand?”
“I supported you.”
Raphael was too angry to answer.
“I may well have done what you did, Montiel, in my younger days,” Plattsmier said. “However, I would not have done it in front of an Eyewitness News Action-Cam. That’s why the commissioner was distressed with you.” He paused, then his temper showed. “It’s why I couldn’t save you a suspension. Damn it, do you think I wanted you out? If I’d wanted you out, you’d still be out. Internal Affairs wanted to suspend you for three months. And I wouldn’t have let Fox catch this case. Then you’d have no way in on it at all. As it is, you’ve just got to cool your heels for another few hours and you guys will be a team on it.” He paused, and some of the anger went out of him. “Between the two of you, you’re the best I’ve got in the area of organized crime. So let’s let bygones be bygones and do our respective jobs here.”
Raphael heard what Plattsmier didn’t say. The case was going to blow wide open. The city of Philadelphia was on the verge of an ugly mob war. None of them doubted it.
Which made Plattsmier right. They had work to do.
“Take her for now, like Fox said.” Plattsmier thrust a thumb at the brunette.
Raphael glanced her way, and damned if she didn’t do it again, that deep indrawn breath, that squaring of her shoulders. “I have a name,” she said stiffly.
Plattsmier wasn’t impressed. He rarely was. “Good,” he said. “Give it to him.” He pointed at Raphael and left the room.
Raphael looked at Allegra. He wanted to talk to her. Allegra traveled in these circles. She’d probably know more about this murder than Charlie Eagan and his supporters had forgotten. And all of that information would be pertinent to the case.
Three more hours.
While he chilled, waiting for the clock to chime midnight, he’d have to see what he could do with this shoulder-squaring brunette with the wild hair. “Let’s go into the kitchen,” he suggested.
He went ahead of her. As Kate followed him, her chest began to hurt and it felt hard to get air. A man had just been killed! She’d held herself together, had called the cops, had kept that crazy blonde from ruining any evidence the authorities might need. She’d done everything right! And this cop, this Montiel, seemed to think it was all just some kind of reunion with his pal out there in the other room.
Kate’s stomach felt sour. If she didn’t keep her hands tightly fisted, she knew they would begin to shake again. She bit back a groan as she stepped around the broken china on the floor and sat on one of the stools next to the kitchen’s center island. She was cold to the bone in spite of the heat. Maybe the dead guy’s air-conditioning had finally kicked on.
To keep her teeth from snicking together, she asked, “What did you do?”
Montiel glanced at her, then he poked his nose into the baking sheet with the potato thins. To Kate’s disbelief, he popped one into his mouth.
“Stop that!”
He looked at her again. “What, you’re saving them for McGaffney?”
“No! No, of course not. It’s just…”
He watched her levelly. Kate found she couldn’t explain why she was so appalled.
It was his irreverence, she decided. He stood there, not so much tall—maybe five foot eleven—but with the kind of presence that seemed to bleed life from everything else in the room. He had dark blond hair, golden really, and it was unkempt and too long. She doubted if he had shaved since morning. The T-shirt he wore, a well-washed and faded blue, was untucked. He had bottle-green eyes, but as he waited for her to finish her perusal they went to the color of the sea on a cloudy day. They’d hold secrets, Kate realized.
Where had she gotten that from?
The answer was there beneath his infuriating indifference to what had just happened. It was at odds with it. Kate had never had a talent for nuances, except maybe in recipes. She had never been very good with people, or with reading them. Yet she felt a certain intensity beneath Montiel’s who-gives-a-damn manner.
He’d come to investigate a murder and he was eating her potato thins. But his eyes were darkening and turbulent.
“What did you do?” she asked again, more softly.
“With what?” he countered, moving on to munch a scallion.
“What did you do to anger the commissioner so you can’t work until midnight?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re here to figure out anything you saw or heard tonight.”
He was eyeing the one remaining filet now. “Miss dinner?” she asked.
That brought his gaze to her again sharply. “What?”
“If you’re that hungry, I’ll reheat it. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just…stale.”
“Stale.”
“Prepared, then permitted to return to room temperature.”
Permitted? Who used words like permitted in casual conversation? The fact that she did irritated the hell out of him. Coupled with the fact that he was exiled with her in the kitchen, it made Raphael’s voice rough and gravely. “I coldcocked Gregg Miller on Eyewitness News.”
Kate felt something like shock move through her system, feather-light and cold. She’d almost forgotten her question. “That killer? The one…”
“The one,” he agreed flatly. “Then I caught a thirty-day suspension from Internal Affairs for my trouble.”
“Why? Why did you hit him?”
“What he did wasn’t enough?”
As