Brody Law. Carol Ericson
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pulled another piece of bread from the loaf and held it to her lips. “You gotta try this.”
She ducked her head and sank her teeth into the spongy part of the bread, soaked with garlic butter, which dribbled out of the corner of her mouth. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she murmured, “Mmm.”
“You have—” he dabbed the corner of a napkin on her luscious lips “—a little bit of butter right there.”
“Charming. That’s almost as bad as having spinach between your teeth.”
“Blame it on the bread.” He picked up the salad bowls and walked to a round table next to the sliding glass doors that led to a balcony that overlooked the city.
Elise followed him with the pasta and bread. “Do you want something to drink? I’m sure Courtney has some wine around here.”
“Just water.”
“Oh, are you not allowed to drink even a little when you’re driving?”
He reached for the silverware and arranged it on the two placemats. “As long as I’m not working it’s okay, just like anyone if I stay under the legal limit. But I usually never drink and drive. I’m fine with water. Don’t let me stop you.”
“I told you the other night I’m not much of a drinker.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a good thing, too, because I may not have regained consciousness so fast in that trunk.”
It always came back to that. The laughter, the food, the sexual tension between them—none of it mattered, none of it would’ve been possible if some maniac hadn’t stuffed Elise in the trunk of his car.
But Sean would do his best to make it normal, and for the remainder of the meal he tried to do just that.
He held up a spoon full of pasta. “More ravioli?”
Elise pushed her chair away from the table and patted her flat tummy. “I’m stuffed. I had pasta for dinner last night and for lunch today, too. With all that carb loading, I could probably run a marathon tomorrow.”
“Sorry, I could’ve ordered Chinese.”
“Had it for lunch yesterday.”
“Greek?” He lifted one eyebrow.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had Greek food.” She dabbed at a crumb of bread with her fingertip and sucked it into her mouth.
“We’ll have to remedy that sometime. There’s a great little place in North Beach, right smack in the middle of all the Italian places.” The words came out automatically as if this were a regular date with a regular woman.
There was nothing regular about this date—or Elise Duran.
She stood up abruptly and grabbed the rim of her plate with both hands. “Are you still eating, or can I take your plate?”
He handed her the plate. “You can take it, but I’ll do the cleanup since I sort of invited myself over.”
“We’ll both do it. I’ll wrap up the food. If you can rinse the dishes, I’ll stick them in the dishwasher.”
“Deal.” He gathered the silverware and glasses and followed her to the kitchen. He ran the warm water and swiped a dish sponge across the streaks of tomato sauce and bits of cheese stuck to the plates.
Elise replaced the lids on the food containers and glanced over her shoulder. “You’re pretty good at that for a single guy, or maybe that’s why you are so good at it since you have to fend for yourself in the kitchen.”
“Believe me, I got a lot of practice growing up.”
“Ah, was your mom one of those liberated women who believed in teaching her sons how to do housework? Sounds like my kinda woman.”
He ducked his head to scrub at a stubborn piece of cheese. “My mom was...ill. My brothers and I did most of the work around the house.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That must’ve been tough on your dad, too.”
Why the hell had he brought up his childhood? A voice in the back of his head chided. You’re the one who wanted this to be a regular date.
“My dad...”
“Who opened an Italian eatery in my place and forgot to tell me?”
Courtney burst through the front door to save the day.
She waved a hand in front of her nose. “I can smell that garlic all the way down the hallway. The homeowners’ association is going to bring it up in their next meeting and give me a lecture.”
She dropped a laptop case and a leather briefcase in the corner of the room and spun around. “Oh, hello.”
Sean lifted a soapy hand. “Hope you don’t mind me barging in.”
Courtney’s dark eyes darted from his face to Elise’s. “Nope. How was your day, Elise? Those little monsters still running you ragged?”
“My kids are not little monsters. How about you? Busy day?”
“I saw a new client today. Those first sessions are always a little rough.” Courtney checked her phone and then connected it to her charger on the counter.
“Do you want some food before I finish wrapping it up?” Elise held up one of the containers.
“That’s okay.” Courtney pointed to her bags. “I picked up a sandwich in my building before I left, but I will have a glass of wine while you tell me what happened today that a cop has to follow you home and eat dinner with you.”
Elise sighed and stood on her tiptoes to reach for a bottle of wine in the cupboard. “If you insist.”
She opened the bottle and splashed a quantity of the ruby liquid in the glass. When she carried it to her friend, Sean joined them at the table.
Courtney sipped her wine as Elise told her what had happened at her school.
When she finished, Courtney threw back the rest of her wine and held out her glass for a refill. “That’s creepy, Elise. How did he know where you taught?”
Elise reached behind her for the bottle. “I had a pay stub in my purse. He probably got it from there. He may have even seen something on my phone. Heck, maybe he even did a search for me on the internet. It’s not like he doesn’t already know my name and address.”
Courtney turned to Sean. “What do those numbers mean?”
He slumped in the chair and stretched his legs in front of him. “The penal code for murder is 187. We figured the one plus one means two murders or two people. The six and twelve might mean tomorrow’s date.”
Courtney had covered her mouth with her hand, and it slid to her throat. “What about the other numbers?”
“Don’t know yet. I sent the note to the station, and one of the detectives is working on deciphering it.”
“Do you think there’s going to be another murder tomorrow?”
“If so, I hope the other numbers tell us where.”
“Who, what, when, where and how.” Elise took a sip of Courtney’s wine and puckered her lips. “Is that obnoxious journalist still bothering you?”
“What are you implying? Do you think he’s involved somehow?”
“Seems awfully anxious to get some big scoop.”
“That’s his job. It doesn’t mean he’s a killer.”
Courtney snapped her fingers. “I know that guy. Ray Lopez, right? I’ve seen him on the local news. He’s a big mouth, but he’s entertaining in a tabloid kinda way.”
“Yeah, that’s him. You’ve seen him do other stories?” Elise asked.
“He