Oblivious, Reheema was still smiling. "You stay outta the kitchen last night, you ho?"
Vicki winced. "Stop. I love the man."
"Slow down, girl. He left his wife two days ago."
"She left him."
"All the more, and he's not divorced yet."
"That's only the legal part."
"You're a lawyer."
"I hear you. Enough." Vicki checked the TV, where the T-Mobile commercial was over and a BREAKING NEWS banner was coming on. She edged forward in her seat. "Heads up. It's the press conference."
"Ooh, wow."
Vicki watched as the TV screen showed Strauss behind a podium, with the American flag on his right, standing next to a phalanx of suits that ended in Dan. Her heart leaped up. "That's Dan, on the end!"
Reheema turned to the TV. "He's white?"
Vicki laughed. "He's strawberry blond. Hot, huh?"
"He's all right." Reheema smiled.
Vicki looked again at the TV. Bale wasn't onscreen. Odd.
Strauss was saying, "No one needs to remind anybody of the appalling scenes that took place yesterday at Toys ‘R' Us. Men, women, and children were murdered, and the cowards who killed them must be stopped so we can live our lives, shop with our children, and enjoy the great opportunity this country offers us all."
"What's that man running for?" Reheema asked, pushing her eggs away, half eaten.
"To accomplish that, my office is pleased to announce an initiative entitled Project Clean Shopping, whereby the highest priority will be given to the prosecution of shootings, assaults, and other crimes that take place in the shopping areas, strip malls, or indoor malls of the city of Philadelphia."
Vicki thought of Morty. Mr. Clean.
"You have already heard at the mayor's press conference, earlier this morning, that the Philadelphia police will double the number of patrol officers to our city's shopping areas and strip malls. Law enforcement will work together to protect the safety of our citizens and the economy of this thriving city. So please, go about your business. Mourn these victims, honor them by enjoying yourselves and by living your lives. Don't permit a few thugs-or your fears-to keep you from shopping for your family and yourselves."
"S'all about the money," Reheema said, sipping her coffee.
"I'll take questions in a minute, but I'd like to introduce you to Dan Malloy, one of the best prosecutors in my office, who will be heading up Project Clean Shopping. The press release we distributed today lists Dan as the contact point, so you now have his phone and e-mail. Please, folks, feel free to ask Dan all the hard questions. Leave the easy ones for me."
Wow! "Wow!" Vicki couldn't hide her surprise. Dan hadn't mentioned it last night. She felt confused and proud, both at once.
"Dan the man," Reheema said, smiling, and Vicki felt the proud part surge to the fore.
"Good for him. He deserves it."
"Wonder if they know he does it in the kitchen."
"Behave." Vicki watched the rest of the press conference, in which Strauss answered softballs with a politician's expertise. When it was over, she scooped up a forkful of eggs. "We'd better get going, we have our work cut out for us, playing catch-up. Dan says ATF assigned a special group to this case, because of the level of violence, and after yesterday, we have to be careful. Let's just see what goes on and try to stay away from the guns, huh?"
"Including mine?"
Vicki set down her fork and eased back into the booth seat. "On you?"
"Yeah."
"Where is it?" Vicki eyed Reheema's pea coat. "I'm not wearing my X-ray specs."
"My coat pocket."
"You got bullets, too?"
"They go inside the gun, Harvard. No fun without."
Their eyes met over the leftovers. Vicki said, "Well, I won't tell you you're wrong, and you wouldn't listen anyway."
"True."
"Where did you get it, by the way?"
"Around."
"What's that mean?"
"In the neighborhood."
"Wait. When you wanted guns before, you bought them in a gun shop."
"Went to jail in between. Learned a lot." Reheema smiled, tight, and picked up her fork. "Finish your breakfast."
But Vicki had lost her appetite. Guns. HIDTA. Bill Toner.
Maybe they were in over their heads. For the first time, she felt afraid, and ironically, it was because they were armed now, too.
"By the way, can I take you up on your offer last night, about the money?"
Good. "How much do you need? I got some cash."
"To get started, three hundred, if you can manage."
"I think I have it on me. I took out extra for the new car." Vicki reached for her wallet, counted out the bills, then stopped. "But I want collateral. The gun."
"What?"
"Give me the gun and I'll give you the money. I need collateral."
Reheema cocked her head, her lovely eyes narrowing. "You just don't want me to have a gun."
"No, really?" Vicki made a duh face, but Reheema didn't laugh.
"It won't help either of us if you have it. You don't know how to use it. You're good with a computer, but a gun is something else."
"You're no better than I am."
"Am, too."
Vicki clucked. "Have you ever shot a gun?"
"Yeah."
Oh. "At somebody?"
"Of course. How else you gonna hit 'em?"
Maybe National Honor Society only goes so far. "Still."
"Fine." Reheema shoved her hand into her pea coat and took out a gun as easily as car keys. It was a revolver with a silver barrel and a black handle, and she set it on the red table with a clunk.
"What are you doing?" Vicki snatched up the gun and put it on her lap before anybody saw it, not that there was anybody around to see. And even on her lap, the gun felt unsafe, as if it might spontaneously combust. Vicki had never been this close to a loaded weapon that wasn't pointed at her.
"Now gimme the money." Reheema stood up, hand outstretched, and Vicki handed her the cash. She folded it into a wad and stuffed it into her jeans pocket. "And don't think I can't take that gun from you, anytime I want it."
"Be that way." Vicki slid the gun into her purse, then stood up and tried to recover her dignity. It seemed oddly beside the point, now that she was carrying concealed.
Vicki and Reheema circled Lincoln Street a few times in the Intrepid, getting a bead on the new Cater Street operation since Browning's death. There were unfamiliar lookouts at both ends of Cater, but the same steady stream of customers flocked to the hole. The smaller snowplows must have come, because Cater had been cleared, permitting car traffic and curbside crack takeaway to recommence, busy as Outback Steakhouse.
Vicki had given up trying to figure out why having a gun made her feel less safe, and they forgot their lovers' quarrel and focused on the goings-on on Cater, once the Intrepid was parked behind their favorite snowbank.
"Same wine, different bottle," Reheema said, and Vicki nodded. Bright light flooded the car's crappy black interior, reflecting off the leftover snow. They actually needed the sunglasses, if not the dumb hats.
"Wonder if it's a whole new crew."
"Crew?" Reheema looked over the top of her sunglasses. "Where'd you learn that?"
"MTV."
"Proud a you." They both laughed, and Reheema asked, "So what's the plan, we wait for the go-between?"
"Right. I still wanna go up the chain, especially now that we're on to something. I think it's Toner's crew that hit Jack-son's house that night and killed her and Morty. Now we have to find the equivalent of Browning, but in Toner's crew, then go on up to the connect." Vicki started digging in her backpack for her camera. "I assume this organization works the same way."