“The supercop thing?”
“And getting me into one of the task force briefings.”
I tossed down half of my bourbon. “I brought up your supersleuth idea. It got kicked around, then finally dropped.”
“What about the other?”
I finished my drink in one more swallow. “Nope,” I answered, absently noting that the evening had progressed to the point where I had to speak deliberately to avoid slurring. “Didn’t even bother. No way in hell they were gonna buy it.”
“But-”
“It’s not even an option. End of discussion.”
“Then let’s talk about something else. What’s your wife do?”
“You can be real irritating, you know that?”
“It’s a gift.”
Despite my ill humor, I cracked a smile, recalling that recently I had said something similar.
“C’mon, what’s she do?” Lauren persisted, encouraged by the break in my mood. “I’m interested in knowing what type of woman would put up with you.”
“She’s a musician. Plays cello for the Los Angeles Philharmonic.”
Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. You’re full of surprises. Any children?”
“Three. They all adore me.”
“I’ll bet,” Lauren laughed. “I have a daughter myself.”
“Nine years old.”
“How’d you know that?”
“You told me that day you were spoutin’ off in the parking garage. You said you were a single mother with no social life and a few more wrinkles than you had last year, a three-bedroom condo with a leaky roof and a big mortgage, and a nine-year-old daughter you don’t have time for.”
Lauren’s mouth dropped open. “That sounds verbatim.”
“It is.”
“How…?”
I shrugged. “I have a good memory.”
“You remember conversations word-for-word?” Lauren asked dubiously.
“And a lotta other things I’d rather forget.”
“Really? What else did I say?”
“You said that sometimes you wake up in the morning and wonder what you’re doing with your life,” I answered without thinking. “You asked if it sounded familiar.”
“And what did you say?”
“I didn’t.”
Lauren stared. “You’re a strange man, Kane.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The waitress returned with our drinks. After she departed, Lauren picked up where she’d left off. “How’d you and your wife get together? I mean, there’s quite a difference between you. She plays with the Philharmonic, while you’re out there on the streets…”
“… wallowing in the gutter?”
“I was about to say making the city safe for the rest of us.”
“Sure you were,” I said. “And as a matter of fact, Kate would like nothing better than for me to quit the Force. I’m thinkin’ about it, too. Maybe I’ll take an early-out.”
“What would you do then?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. If I quit, I’d probably just sit around somewhere in a rocker drooling on myself.”
“With your pecker hanging out because you can’t remember to zip your fly,” Lauren noted somberly. “A pathetic image.”
“That’s some mouth you’ve got on you, Van Owen. Ever consider working for Hallmark?”
“I grew up with two older brothers,” Lauren replied with a smile. Then, “So how did you get into law enforcement?”
“My dad was a cop.”
“Was? Is he retired now?”
“He died in the line of duty.”
Lauren’s smile faded. “Sorry. I didn’t-”
“It’s okay. It happened a long time ago.”
“Your mom still alive?”
“Yep. She remarried. Still lives in Austin.”
“A Texas boy. I should have known.” Lauren gazed at me pensively. “Tell me something, Kane. And tell me the truth. You love being a police detective, don’t you?”
I thought a moment. “The truth? Except for putting up with the bullshit that probably goes with any job, yeah. I do.”
“So keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Odd advice, coming from you.”
“Not really,” said Lauren. “To people like you and me, careers are more important than family relationships or a good love life. You’re a cop because you’re good at it and that’s what you want to do. And no matter what you say, you’ll keep doing it as long as you can. Hell, I don’t blame you. Although you may not think so, I have a lot of respect for you guys in blue.”
“About as much as I have for the media.”
“That’s not fair,” Lauren retorted. “Whether you approve or not, the public has a right to know. Besides, television news isn’t all ‘murder and mayhem at eleven.’ Granted, we often deserve criticism, but there are a lot of good things happening in broadcast journalism, too.”
“Name one.”
Lauren bristled. “Despite your uninformed opinion, it’s obvious to any thinking person that broadcast journalism has a pervasive influence on society. We have the power to inform, enlighten, and empower. And I believe we’re working toward doing all those things, and improving as time goes on.”
“Right.”
Ignoring my cynicism, Lauren continued. “The world’s shrinking, Kane, and we in the news media are playing a part. As we become a global community-”
“So how are things better now that we can get live shots of bombs dropping in the Mideast and tanks rolling into undefended cities?”
“You’re missing the point. The only way to change things is to-”
“Get off the soapbox, honey. I’m not in the mood. Besides, we’re never gonna agree.”
“Probably not,” Lauren said tersely. “I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to change your mind about something.”
“Tell you what,” I said, my mood again plummeting. “Why don’t you drink your wine while I slug down a couple more bourbons, and we just listen to the music?”
“Fine.”
After the combo finished its third set, I rose unsteadily, deciding the time had come to call a cab. Lauren, who enjoyed jazz and had remained at my table despite my less than hospitable company, offered me a lift. Figuring what the hell, I accepted, at that point not thinking too clearly.
By then the storm had let up slightly, and the rain-slicked streets outside were practically deserted. Except for giving directions, I said nothing to Lauren on the drive west to San Vicente Boulevard. After traveling for several minutes down the tree-lined avenue, I directed Lauren north on a side street, arriving minutes later at Arnie’s modest, ranch-style residence. The windows were dark.
“Looks like nobody’s home,” Lauren noted, peering through the windshield.
“Arnie’s staying at his girlfriend’s tonight, as usual,” I said, searching my pockets for Arnie’s key. “Haven’t seen much of him in weeks. I hope I didn’t… ah, here it is.”
“In that case, how about inviting me in for a nightcap?”
“I don’t think so.”
“C’mon, Kane. It’s Friday night, and I don’t feel like going home yet. I won’t bite, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Okay, come on in,” I reluctantly agreed, one portion of my alcohol-besotted brain suspecting I was making a mistake, another part beginning not to care. “Arnie’s got some Scotch around somewhere.”
“Works for me.” Lauren cut the engine, slid from behind the wheel, and started for the house.
I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision and stumbled after her. Following her up the walkway, I thought again of Catheryn, realizing she was probably spending time with Arthur West at that very moment. Without willing it, I mentally replayed my conversation with the man who had answered the phone in her room, deciding it must have been Arthur. I pictured Catheryn and her handsome, urbane associate sitting somewhere having a drink, laughing, sharing intimate memories of their trip. Stinging with jealousy, I thrust away the image.
“You have the key?” asked Lauren when she reached the door.
I joined her on the landing and fumbled with the deadbolt, acutely aware of the woman beside me. She was taller than I remembered. In heels, she had to be over six feet. I glanced at her as I unlocked the door, surprised to find her clear blue eyes nearly level with my own. I could smell her perfume, the same scent she’d been wearing on the day she had waylaid me in the parking garage.