Kelly McPherson answered the phone. “I know what time the plane lands, Phoenix,” she said. “You do know that Washington is three friggin’ hours ahead of Los Angeles, right? I mean, you do know that it’s two a.m. here, right?”
I laughed. “How’d you know it was me?” I said.
She laughed. “Who the hell else is going to be calling me from the Universal City Hilton?”
“The technology these days,” I said sarcastically. “Were you asleep?”
“Hell no. Just sitting here reading an Eric Jerome Dickey book.”
“Which one?”
“Cheaters, Why? You want to read it when I’m done? Is that why you called this late?”
“Of course. Why else would I call?”
“You want my best guess, Phoenix?”
I could tell she was smiling when she asked the question. “Yeah, Kelly, Your best guess.”
“Okay, knowing a hard-core FBI agent like you, you probably saw the article in USA Today about the high-profile murder of a local warden and his wife. I think you were puzzled as hell, probably bothered you all friggin’ day. Bothered you so much in fact that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to talk to me about it. How am I doing?”
I smiled. That’s how it is when you’ve been partnered with someone for as long as Kelly and I have been. You know each other so well. You’re almost like a set of identical twins.
“Bothered you all day, too, huh, Kelly?”
“Sho’ did,” she said.
Kelly McPherson is white, but she can speak in the Black English vernacular and sound authentic when it suits her; unlike so many of the morning news anchorwomen, who learn a popular word or phrase and still sound too proper when they say it.
“So who’s running the show on this one, Kelly?”
“The locals.”
“Are they sharing?”
“Haven’t asked, to be honest. I’ve been on my best behavior, so I’m sure I could find something out.”
“Would you?” I asked.
“Sure. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”
“How’s the arm and the leg?” I asked her. Coco Nimburu had broken them during an altercation.
“They’re as good as new. Better, if you believe what they say about a clean break. Did you sprinkle her ashes at the studio?”
“Yeah, I did it.”
“Well, I’ve been working out at your dojo on the wooden dummy like you suggested. That shit is hard on the arms, girl.”
“Yeah, but it toughens them up. Keep working at it.”
“We’re still going to work out together at the dojo though, right, Phoenix?”
“Of course. Anyway, I’m gonna go. See ya tomorrow night.”