9:50 p.m.
“HENDRICK’S MARTINI, up, with Noilly Prat vermouth, just a splash, and three blue-cheese-stuffed olives.”
Veena Lion gave her order without looking up from the menu. The bar was dim, but her eyes remained hidden behind her sunglasses.
“And I’ll have the Citywide Special,” Cooper Lamb said. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Veena raised an eyebrow. “You know we’re not at Dirty Frank’s, right?”
“The Citywide Special, as the name implies, is honored all over the city,” Cooper said. He looked up at the server. “Is this not true?”
The server smiled shyly. “I’ll see what I can do.” Cooper watched her leave, then turned to see that Veena had been watching him watching the server leave. “What?”
Veena shrugged. “She’s going to bring you the Rittenhouse Hotel version of the Citywide, you know.”
“A thimble’s worth of WhistlePig and a jewel-encrusted goblet of Duvel?”
“My point is, it’s going to be more than five bucks.”
“Good thing you’re picking up the tab.”
“Oh, am I?”
“Of course you are—you’ve got that big DA paycheck coming.”
Only now did Veena remove her sunglasses. She placed them on the table between them. Cooper knew her secret. She didn’t wear shades to be mysterious. It was the intensity of her jade-green eyes. When Veena Lion looked at you, you felt as if she were gazing into the secret chambers of your soul. This made most people supremely uncomfortable.
But it worked the other way around too. Veena’s eyes often betrayed what she was really thinking. “You’re working for Francine Hughes,” she said, pure delight in her eyes.
“Technically, her lawyers hired me.”
“No need to get technical with me, Cooper.”
“Oh, I know. I just didn’t want you getting all jealous, imagining a scene that never happened.”
“You mean the scene where the hot grieving superstar heaves her bosom in your direction and plies you with alcohol until you swear to her that you’ll find her husband’s killer?”
“Eh, something like that.”
“Speaking of…”
Their drinks arrived. Veena coldly noted the presence of four blue-cheese-stuffed olives. While she no doubt preferred overkill to the alternative, Veena liked her directions to be followed to the letter. The server was trying too hard, and the slight hint of disapproval in Veena’s eyes made Cooper smile.
“And for you, handsome, a Citywide Special,” the server told Cooper as she set an oversize tumbler and a pint glass in front of him.
“Which here at the Rittenhouse is defined as…”
“If you can guess what’s in that glass,” the server said, “the drink’s on me.”
“You know,” Veena said, “it’s not technically a double entendre if your meaning is painfully obvious.”
“I’m sorry? I—”
Cooper interrupted. “Challenge accepted! But if I get it right, I’m still paying five bucks. Otherwise, it’s just not a Citywide Special.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
Veena rolled her eyes.
Cooper sipped at the shot like a hummingbird sampling the nectar of a daylily, paused to consider, then unceremoniously knocked the rest of the shot back.
“The fluid in that glass,” Cooper said, “was definitely alcohol.”
The server laughed, maybe a little too much, and left Cooper and Veena to their libations. Cooper raised his pint glass and turned to Veena. “Shall we toast?”
“To what?”
“To working another case together.”
“We’re not working this case together,” Veena said. “In fact, we’re working for opposing sides. You remember, don’t you? Prosecution on one side, defense on the other?”
“Ah, but we’re still on the same side.”
“And what side is that?”
“The side of truth, no matter what.”