10:01 p.m.
“TRUTH IS, this case is a flaming garbage fire,” Veena said, then downed half the martini. It was cold and bracing and exactly what she needed.
“Please,” Cooper said. “Not with us working together as a team.”
“Cooper, the only thing worse than being on a team with you is being on a team opposite you. Which is why I wanted to meet.”
“And here I thought you just wanted to tie one on. Speaking of…” Cooper looked around for their server, who had departed only a few moments ago.
“We’re friends and all, but I want to establish some ground rules,” Veena said.
“Perfect. This calls for a drink.”
“Rules first, drinks after.”
“Okay, fine,” Cooper said with a slight pout in his voice.
“We share everything. I mean every last shred of intelligence.”
“Done.”
Veena blinked. “Really? That was too easy.”
“Not at all. It’s the smart move. I mean, my man Victor can grab anything he likes from your files—”
“Just like my number two, Janie, can from yours.”
“See? So we’re saving valuable snooping time. Anything else?”
“Yes. We need to agree that we won’t trust anything that comes from Mickey Bernstein.”
“Done,” Cooper said. “I hate that tall handsome prick. He’s nothing but a haircut, a Penn degree, and a last name. What else?”
“No bullshit, now—who do you think killed Archie Hughes?”
“My gut take right now, based on the available facts?” Cooper asked. “Some of which came from Bernstein’s initial report?”
Veena made a sweeping The floor is yours gesture with her freshly manicured hands.
Cooper nodded. “It was a random carjacker. He saw the fancy Maserati, not the guy behind the wheel. Once he realized who he’d killed, he took the Super Bowl ring to pawn it for some getaway money, but then figured out it would be like tattooing Guilty on his forehead.”
“Interesting theory. So this random carjacker is also a master criminal who can evade dozens of surveillance cameras in the area and knows how to elude the cops in a citywide manhunt?”
“Eh, beginner’s luck,” Cooper said. “This is probably the guy’s first time, which is why Mickey B. and his goons are having so much trouble finding him. And until they do, the entire city will continue to lose its collective mind. So that’s my take. Who do you like for this?”
“Oh, the wife killed him,” Veena said. “Absolutely.”
“Really.”
“No doubt about it.”
Cooper made a Give it to me motion with four fingers.
“Let’s put aside for the moment why Francine Pearl Hughes definitely murdered her husband,” Veena said. “Instead, let’s discuss why they’ll never arrest her.”
“I don’t know. Could it be because…she absolutely didn’t do it?”
“No. It’s because this city loved her long before any of us had even heard of Archie Hughes.”
“True. Francine is Philadelphia’s sweetheart. What was that cringey soul trio she used to front?”
“You’re pretending like you don’t remember the Puritones, but I know you do.”
Cooper smiled like a boy caught in a fib. He was completely unaware that their server was approaching as he broke into a horribly off-key rendition of the Puritones’ hit “Cross My Broken Heart.” Veena considered Cooper a highly talented investigator who had many skills across a variety of disciplines. Singing wasn’t one of them.
“I’ll swear it to the ennnnnnd,” Cooper crooned, “cross my broken heaaaaaaarrt!”
“So glad Lupe isn’t here to see this,” Veena said.
“Can I, uh, get you anything else?” the server asked.
“Only my dignity,” Cooper said, his cheeks slightly red. “As well as another round.”
“Not for me,” Veena said. She downed the second half of her martini.
“Come on, one more,” Cooper pleaded. “Cross my broken heart?”
“Nope.” Veena left cash, including an incredibly generous tip for the server. “By the way,” Veena told her, “don’t go home with him. He’s a gifted orator and can probably talk you into it, but do yourself a favor and pass.”
“I’m mortally wounded,” Cooper said, clutching his chest.
“What business is it of yours?” the server asked. “Are you his ex or something?”
“Maybe someday,” Veena said.