"They're not so bad," she said idly, but Dan turned, incredulous.
"A library card? Exhibit A?"
Vicki couldn't laugh. She still felt bad that Mrs. Bristow was dead, so horribly murdered.
"What's the matter?"
"I feel crappy, is all."
"Why?" Dan poured water into the top of the coffeemaker, put the empty pot in the machine, and switched the black knob to brew.
"Because I was so naïve. Not only to go to Mrs. Bristow's house, but to leave my wallet." Vicki couldn't stop shaking her head. "If I hadn't been so dumb, she would be alive today. I'm screwing up so much lately and it's killing people. Jesus."
"How do you figure that?"
"I gave her the money that bought her the rock that got her killed." Vicki bit her lip. "It's the urban version of the house that Jack built."
Dan snorted. "Gimme a break. You didn't give her the money, she stole it. You didn't buy her drugs, she did. She got herself killed, and you had nothing to do with it."
"I don't know about that." Vicki wished she could agree, but she didn't. Why was everything going so wrong? First Morty and Jackson, now Mrs. Bristow. She rubbed her eyes, feeling sick inside.
"Stop blaming yourself. You're not to blame. By the way, sorry I blew you off last night." Dan turned away and went into the cabinet to retrieve their two go-to mugs, Harvard and Elvis. He set them on the tile counter with a harder-than-usual clink, suddenly preoccupied. The coffee gurgled away, filling the kitchen with the aroma of brewing coffee.
"No problem. I'm sorry I called. I thought Mariella was at work."
"She stopped home."
"That's what I figured." Vicki hated talking about Mariella.
Snow drifted onto her windowsill in wispy cartoon scallops, but it didn't lift her spirits the way it usually did. Looking up from the coffee mugs, Dan noticed it, too.
"When did it start snowing?" "Not long ago." "I didn't realize." Dan kept looking out the window, the reflected light illuminating his handsome features. His blue eyes drooped with morning fatigue, and reddish stubble dotted his chin. He frowned. "Snow is funny. You never know when it starts. It just sneaks up on you and there it is. Before you know it, you're in a snowstorm."
"I guess."
"This is pretty terrible, what's happening here." Dan turned from the window, still frowning, but Vicki wasn't sure what he meant.
"That Mrs. Bristow was killed?" "No. You, on indefinite suspension." Vicki blinked. "At least I'm not fired." Dan didn't say anything. The coffeepot gurgled, and he bent over to make sure it was dripping, without meeting her eye. "Well, I'm not, am I? If I were fired, Bale would have said I was." "With the detectives there?" "Sure, that would make it more fun." "Good point." Dan laughed. "You're right. Bale likes you. I think you're his favorite." Vicki smiled, mystified. "I thought you were." "No. Strauss likes me, Bale likes you." "But Strauss is Daddy and Bale is Mommy, so you win." "It's not a contest," Dan shot back, and Vicki put up her hands. "Whoa, don't shoot." "Sorry, it's not you. I didn't sleep well, last night. We had a fight." "Who?"
"Mariella and me."
Suddenly Dan had Vicki's full attention, especially being braless and all. But she knew she had to act as if she didn't want to hear everything or she'd never get to hear anything. She reached for the coffeepot, interrupting its brewing cycle, and poured coffee into his Elvis mug. She said lightly, "Forget it. Don't worry. This, too, shall pass."
"Not this one." Dan accepted his mug and took a thoughtful sip. "This was a big, big fight."
"It'll pass," Vicki said, though the Malloy/Suarez family never had big fights. In fact, they rarely fought at all. They didn't see each other enough to fight.
"I'm not so sure."
"Sure you are." Vicki poured coffee into her Harvard mug. The day she'd been admitted, her parents had bought three hundred of them. She tried to think of a new subject, which wasn't hard. "How about that guy who answered my cell phone?"
"You'd think the cops would wake up when they heard that. Instead they're in your face. Jerks."
"They'll get to it, in time." Vicki waited and sipped. The coffee tasted good and hot. Snowflakes blew outside. The kitchen fell silent.
"You wouldn't believe what the fight was about," Dan said, after a minute.
"It doesn't matter. The fight's never about the fight, anyway." Vicki knew this from her parents, two major love affairs, and Dr. Phil.
"Mariella thinks we spend too much time together."
"Who?"
"You and me."
"You and me, spend too much time together?" Vicki felt accused and convicted, both at once. His words had broken through some veneer. The fight was about them?
"She accused me of having an affair with you."
"What?" "You heard me." Vicki flushed. "But we're not!" "Of course we're not, but I can't convince her of that. It's not even the first time we've fought about it." My God. "It isn't?" "You look surprised." "I am! I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me?" "Why would I? I didn't want to, it's between me and her.
And I know it's not true, so I don't sweat it." Dan shrugged. "But I can never make her believe me, and lately, it's all coming to a head. It started when I caught her checking my BlackBerry, for e-mail from you."
"Really?" Vicki felt instantly guilty. "Well, we do e-mail." "We're allowed to." "And we do spend a lot of time together. A whole lot." "But we're just friends." Right. "Maybe we should cool it a little." "I don't see why." "So she won't be upset, or suspect you." Vicki felt a wave of shame for secretly wanting him. He belonged to Mariella, and it was obvious now what should have been obvious all along. "Look, our friendship is undermining your marriage."
"No, it isn't." "Dan, it is." Dan frowned. "But she's wrong to be upset!" "That doesn't matter. Her feelings are her feelings. She's your wife." "And you're my best friend." "So, friends take breaks. Maybe we shouldn't have lunch together, every damn day. In fact, I'm sick of you." Vicki faked a smile. You and your bralessness.
"No." Dan set his mug down, and coffee sloshed around the side. "She's not around anyway, and we're just keeping each other company. She should trust me."
"Maybe she does, but she still doesn't like it." Vicki had to admit that Mariella wasn't being unreasonable. "You two were in bed together when I called. She doesn't like it; no woman would."
"I told you to call, and so what? Things are going crazy lately, with Morty being killed and now Bristow's mother. She acts like that's not happening. My God, it's like I have this whole life she doesn't know about!"
"You have to be sensitive to her," Vicki said, managing not to choke on the words.
"Plus, she doesn't know what it's like to work in our office, to try to move up there." Dan raised his voice, his tone sharpening. "She doesn't know what it's like to be on trial, day after day. Write motions at night. Meet with witnesses around a court schedule."
Nobody knows what that's like, except another AUSA, Vicki thought, but would never say it, because it was way too true. People at work shared things that outsiders would never understand.
"She doesn't know what it was like to lose Morty. I worked with him for two years, had three cases with him. You saw him every day for a year, on Edwards. You knew him, and now he's dead!" Dan's voice broke, in pain. For Morty. For her. For himself. Vicki felt like hugging him but knew she couldn't. It confused her. She wanted him, but not this way, and she didn't want to cause trouble for him.
"Dan, calm down. Mariella just wants more of your time."