Matt seemed at a loss for words, but Andy was all too happy to supply them.
"I get it," he said. "Sweet little Ronnie can't be the bad guy, but that Andy, he's got killer written all over him, right? Jesus Christ, Matt, I thought we were friends."
Remembering his own suspicions-and not feeling good about it-Hutch held his hands up. "Take it easy, man, nobody thinks you're-"
"Excuse me, I gotta take a leak."
Andy gestured and Monica slipped out of the booth. Everyone was silent as he stepped past her and headed across the room toward a sign marked RESTROOMS. Hutch could tell by his walk that he was too pissed off for words.
And who could blame him?
Hutch looked at Matt. "Aren't you gonna go apologize?"
Matt shrugged. "For what? I never said I thought he killed her. That's just Andy getting his back up like he always does. He'll get over it."
"You're his best friend, man."
"Believe me, I'm well aware that. It's a burden I've lived with for years."
"Fine," Hutch said. "I'll go talk to him."
Tom got out of his way and he climbed out and crossed the room to a short hallway, heading for a door marked GENTLEMEN. When he got inside, Andy was at the urinal, doing his business.
Hutch said, "You okay, man?"
"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just standing here thinking about who my next victim'll be."
"Look," Hutch said, "Matt wasn't accusing you of anything."
"Whatever." He zipped up, flushed, then moved to the sink and started rinsing his hands. "But I want it on record that I'm not the only jerk sitting at that table."
"Duly noted."
They were silent as Andy reached for a paper towel, then Hutch said, "By the way, I've been meaning to tell you, I read your script when I was back in L.A."
Andy turned. "I've been wondering about that. Figured you didn't like it."
"Actually, it's pretty damn good. I sent it to a friend of mine, a Swedish director who does crime thrillers, looking to break into the American market. I figured it was right up his alley."
Andy's face lit up. "Seriously? Are you fucking with me?"
"He's got some juice, so if he likes what he sees you may get lucky."
"That's fantastic! Jesus."
"You got talent, man. A lot more than I ever will. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."
Andy suddenly went quiet. It may have been a trick of the light, but it looked as if he had tears in his eyes. Then he quickly finished drying his hands and held one out, saying, "Thanks, man, I really appreciate this."
Hutch shook it. "I just call 'em like I see 'em." He paused as a thought occurred. "You have anything against writing for television?"
"Uh… no. Why would I?"
"If you want, I can pass the script along to some of the show runners I know, see if it can generate some TV work."
Andy stood there looking shell shocked.
"Just be warned," Hutch said. "This business is full of asshats who'll use and abuse you without a second thought."
"Ha," Andy barked. "That's true of every job I've ever had."
"Point taken. Now get the hell out of here before people start talking."
His friend smiled and thanked him again, then headed outside as Hutch stepped over to the urinal and unzipped. He'd had two root beers during lunch and felt as if he were about to burst.
He stood there ruminating on the simple pleasure of taking a much needed pee, when a toilet flushed and the booth door flew open. A young guy with a crewcut and thick, black-rimmed glasses emerged, stepping toward the sink. Hutch remembered him from the courthouse, one of the trial junkies who regularly sat in on Ronnie's trial. The pasty-looking guy he'd pegged as the creepy next door neighbor.
He had a large hardback book tucked under his arm, which he shoved into his book bag and set on the counter as he washed his hands with more soap than he needed. He spent a good half minute or so, scrubbing them thoroughly, as Hutch zipped and flushed and waited to use the sink.
The guy glanced in the mirror, and for a moment, their gazes met. And in that moment, Hutch felt a sudden sense of dread run through him. Outside of a few agents he'd known, this guy had the deadest eyes he'd ever seen. Black and shark-like, magnified by those thick, coke-bottle lenses.
He quickly looked away, and a moment later the guy was finished and gone.
It was only then that Hutch realized he'd been holding his breath.
"You're right," Tom said, "He does look like a creep, but what are you thinking?"
Hutch was back in the booth now and it seemed that Matt and Andy had kissed and made up. Maybe the good news had done the trick.
The man with the black glasses was sitting alone at a table across the room, nursing a Pepsi and half a club sandwich as he lost himself in the pages of his book.
Hutch shrugged. "I'm not really thinking anything. Just making an observation."
"Maybe we should be putting him on our list of suspects," Monica said. "Along with Andy, of course."
Matt winced and Andy flicked a middle finger at her. "Nice try, thunder tits, but I'm bulletproof right now."
"You point that thing at me, McKenna, you better know how to use it."
"You had your chance back in college. You shoulda let me join one of your little web chats."
She cupped her breasts and jiggled them at him. "Dream on, buster."
It was a move Monica was famous for and everyone laughed. Hutch was glad to see that the old college camaraderie had returned, something he doubted the guy with the black glasses had ever experienced. Which, in a way, made Hutch feel sorry for him.
But then he'd always had a bit of a soft spot for people he saw eating alone. He knew it happened every day-hell, he'd done it enough himself-but there was a kind of inherent loneliness in the act that couldn't be denied.
That said, the creep didn't seem to be having a problem with it. Looked quite content with his book for company.
Hutch thought about those dead shark eyes and somewhere in the back of his mind he did exactly what Monica had suggested. Put him on the list with the Businessman, the Battle-Axe, Two-day Stubble, and just about everyone else who sat in that gallery every day.
He was thinking about this when he realized that the others had moved on with the conversation, and were now talking about Nadine, who remained the only hold out. The one person in the group who still thought Ronnie was guilty.
"So where is she?" he asked. "She promised me she'd be in the courtroom once the trial started."
"Busy getting rich," Tom said. "Some big real estate development she's been working on for months. Plus, she couldn't watch the trial even if she wanted to."
Andy frowned. "Why not?"
"Because she's a witness for the prosecution."
— 24 -
"Witness?" Hutch said. "What the hell did she witness?"
Tom picked at the crumbs on his plate. "You remember that call she told us about? The one from Ronnie?"
It took Hutch a moment to retrieve the memory. Then he saw himself huddled with Tom and Nadine in the police station lobby, Nadine telling them about Ronnie's nearly incoherent phone call the day after she ran into Jenny at the Godwyn Theater.
"They want her to testify about that?"
Tom nodded. "I guess they think it's relevant. A way of demonstrating Ronnie's frame of mind."
"Frame of mind? The way Nadine described it, it sounded more like a classic drunk-dialing mishap than anything significant. How did they even find out about it?"
"How else?" Tom said. "Nadine contacted the detective in charge."
Matt shook his head in disgust. "What the hell is wrong with her?"
"She and Jenny were still pretty close," Tom said. "Not like the old days, but I think Jenny was doing some legal work on that big real estate deal. Nadine puts up a good front, but she was pretty busted up by the murder."