"What do you mean you don't see it?" Leary demanded as she threw back the acetaminophen and washed them down with a quick swig of coffee. "Landry's ruthless, he's hungry, he'll obviously do anything to make that unit fly. Why not off a couple old farts who are costing him money?"
Murphy popped the lid of his coffee and took a long slug that damn near seared his esophagus. "Not his game. He only murders on the books. Not in person."
Leary snorted. "You just want it to be Alex."
Murphy had to smile. "We do know he recognized the shooter, now, don't we?"
"No, we don't," she argued, her nose stuck in the doughnut bag in search of her cholesterol of choice. "He might not have seen his face before we broke it all up."
"Nice try. He knew him, he knew what it was about, and he won't admit it."
"Wrong. He's not that complicated."
"We could go ask him now."
"We could if we were in New York. He left for a conference this morning right after leaving the keys to his shiny new Lexus in my mailbox."
Murphy reached in the bag alongside her chin and grabbed the first doughnut he found, a cruller. "Bribery now. We'll nail him the minute he gets back."
Leary shook her head, still intent on her hunt. "We'll nail Landry as soon as I find out just how many of our early graduates were 'old-timers,'" she said, finally snagging a chocolate-covered longjohn and taking a big bite. "Then we have to decide just how to ask the rest of the relatives whether the offer was made, or if they just woke up one morning to find Grandma dead."
There was chocolate on her chin. For a minute Murphy couldn't take his eyes off it. A tattoo on her ass and chocolate on her chin. He was in lust all over again, and it was only noon. Even worse, he found himself beset by the most absurd urge to calm Leary down. Ease that stretched — thin look she was getting around the eyes. And that didn't just make him wary, it damn near made him afraid. He hadn't been compelled to do something that stupid for about twenty years now.
"If it's an exercise in cost cutting," he said instead, his focus never wavering from that daub of brown, "why bother to make an offer? Isn't that overkill?"
Leary took another bite. "Who knows? Maybe he gets off on the power. God knows he seems to at the hospital. Wouldn't you just love to know what Victor found out before he died? Although I don't think that's the way I would have handled Mr. Cleveland if I were him."
"It wasn't. Where'd you learn your interrogation techniques?"
She grinned and slid her coffee cup between her knees so she could fiddle with it. Murphy couldn't take his eyes off that, either. "Best homicide dick in L.A. Her name was Corinne Jackson, and perps dropped like flies for her honey-tongued little number."
"I bet. Tell me again you don't want to have sex."
Leary didn't miss a beat. "I don't want to have sex."
But she was grinning. At least she wouldn't be bringing him up on charges yet.
"Heavy necking," he offered, leaning back in his seat so he was actually, at least in his mind, farther away.
She finished off the doughnut with a very suggestive flourish. "No thanks."
Murphy closed his eyes, content that he'd at least gotten her to smile. "I guess this means that accident wasn't a life-altering experience."
"No," she said. "The divorce was."
He opened his eyes again and saw it. That crackle of attraction. The regret that she was going to let her head rule. Ah, well, definitely for the better. He just wished he didn't feel that that smile was a personal accomplishment.
As if just the thought of necking compelled community response, there was a brusque tapping on the window. Murphy leaned forward to see a red-headed guy in a detective suit bent over Leary's side of the car. He had coffee in his hand and white icing on his Jerry Garcia tie.
"I hope impure thoughts aren't an ordinance violation around here," Murphy said.
Leary laughed as she rolled down the window. "Nah. Detective Sergeant Micklind and I are old friends. Aren't we, Detective?"
The guy bent a little farther over to lean an elbow on the car door as he continued to sip his coffee. "Ms. Leary. How are you today?"
"Leary-Parker, Detective Sergeant," she countered brightly. "But I guess it's worthless to insist anymore."
The detective didn't so much as twitch. "Hear you did a gainer and a half over some farmer's silo."
"Yes, sir, I did. Thank you for asking after my health."
Murphy actually saw a tic of humor at the corner of the detective's mouth. "You look healthy, Ms. Leary. I was wondering if I might stop by to talk to you later today."
Leary grabbed another chocolate doughnut and took a big bite. "You heard my ex-husband is in town and decided to arrest me before he turns up dead?" she asked brightly. "Get all your paperwork out of the way before the rush?"
Another tic, minimally bigger. "You thinking of killing him, are you?"
"Ever since the day he sold all my furniture to pay off his girlfriend's boob job."
"I'll keep that in mind. What time would be good for you, Ms. Leary?"
"How's fifteen minutes after he shows up at my front door, Detective? Give me time to find my baseball bat and you time to respond."
"I think it would more of a challenge if you didn't tell me when you were going to kill your ex-husband, Ms. Leary," Micklind retorted easily. "I just need to know when to stop by today."
Leary bobbed her head briskly. "Well, if you're going to be a good sport about it, then how's two? We'll be finished by then, and you'll still have an hour or so with your thumbscrews before my daughter shows up from school."
"Finished, huh?" he asked, leaning farther over so he could give Murphy the once-over. "Something I should know about?"
Leary shot Murphy a glance of pure mischief. "Not unless assignations are against the law. We're having a hot affair, Detective. Got a problem with that?"
"Over doughnuts?"
She grinned like a kid. "I knew a cop would understand. See you later, sir." And then, with his tie still almost hanging over the door, she started rolling the window back up.
All Micklind had to do to delay her was lay a beefy hand over the top of the glass. "You, too, Mr. Murphy. I figured you wouldn't mind a little insight into that collection of bruises you have."
Murphy had to admit surprise. "Not at all."
Micklind nodded, lifted his hand, and recovered his tie.
"This town gets more interesting by the minute," Murphy mused.
Leary laughed. "And you thought you wouldn't like it here."
"I don't. The last thing I want right now is interesting."
She laughed again, which just told him that she understood him much too well.
* * *
They saw six more families. Not one other person even flinched when asked about whether they'd been approached to end a parent's life. A few got downright surly. Most showed the usual mix of grief, guilt, and relief that Murphy had come to expect. He got his fill after the first set. By the last, he was surlier than anybody except Leary, who was actively grinding her teeth. Which made up Murphy's mind about where they were headed next.
"Are you telling me I'm not good company?" she demanded, the manic humor phase of her mood long since dead and withered.