92

They chased paper for days. Made a long list of O’Briens who’d flown from Philadelphia. Narrowed it down to a handful of likely candidates and took the list to Stevens’s stack of murders. After a couple late nights and far too much fast food, they hit something.

“New York City,” said Stevens. “Manhattan. February. Maria Nadeau and Johnny Thorsson, her lover. Found shot to death in a suite at the Carlyle. No trace of the killer.”

“O’Brien was in New York that night,” said Mathers. “Took a shuttle to La Guardia that evening. Left in the morning.”

“Here’s another,” said Windermere. “Los Angeles. Benjamin Arnaud, the movie producer. January, you remember? O’Brien was there, too.”

“New York,” said Stevens. “And L.A. Which do we check out first?”

“I can take Carla to L.A.,” said Mathers. “Hit up the LAPD and take a look at Arnaud’s case. That’d leave Stevens to check out Manhattan. Sound good?”

Stevens studied the file. “Sure,” he said, “except I’m not sure my BCA badge will open any doors in New York City.”

“Shit.” Mathers glanced at Windermere. “Can we get him a badge?”

Windermere shook her head. “Doubtful.”

“I could take Carla with me,” said Stevens. “Probably easier than trying to deputize me. God knows what I’d do with FBI power.”

“Wouldn’t fly anywhere, that’s for sure.”

Mathers frowned. “Okay,” he said. “So you want to take Windermere?”

Windermere looked at Stevens, a twinkle in her eye. “Or you could take Mathers.”

Stevens looked away. “Whatever works.”

He could feel Windermere’s eyes on him and wondered if she’d push it. Finally, she nodded. “You’ve suffered enough, Mathers,” she said. “Check out Los Angeles. Stevens and I, we’ll take New York.”

“YOU’RE JEALOUS,” she said later, as she and Stevens walked down Arch Street toward their hotel.

Stevens looked at her. “Pardon?”

“Of Mathers. You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Windermere grinned at him. “It’s because he asked me out, isn’t it?”

“Heck.” Stevens frowned. “I’m not jealous. It’s a valid point. Nobody’s even going to give me directions if I show them a BCA badge.”

“Uh-huh. You have a terrible poker face, partner.”

They walked a block and a half as Stevens tried to figure out a rebuttal. The downtown streets were crowded; businesspeople and tourists. Finally, Stevens looked across at her. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Windermere cocked her head. “What, Stevens? For you to be jealous?”

“You wouldn’t have told me he asked you out if you didn’t want me to feel something,” he said. “Right?”

Windermere looked away. She didn’t say anything until they reached the hotel, a Sheraton Four Points across from the convention center. Then she stopped on the sidewalk and looked out into traffic, her expression unreadable. “You’re a married man, Kirk,” she said slowly. “Why would I want to make you jealous?”

Stevens took a breath. “Am I wrong?”

“We’re friends,” she said. “You tell me about Nancy, I tell you about Mathers. No big deal.”

“It feels like a big deal,” he said.

“I’ve met your wife, Stevens. I like her. You think I want to ruin your marriage?”

“No. Jesus, no. Of course not.”

“Do you want to ruin your marriage?”

Stevens shook his head. “Carla, I was making a joke. You told me I was jealous; I was pushing back.” He paused. “I’m not one of those assholes who cheats on his wife.”

Windermere looked away down the street. “Good,” she said. “Then don’t do it.”

She turned and walked to the hotel doors. Disappeared inside. Stevens stared after her, his heart pounding. He waited until he was sure she’d cleared the lobby. Then he went inside. Rode the elevator to his room and called Nancy.