Another plate of crab legs later, and Kennedy was pretty sure she’d need a forklift to get her back to Darcy’s house. She’d eaten more crab legs tonight than she had in her entire thirty-eight years of life. More than she ever needed to eat again. But they were right here, and so good.
“Did you want some more?” Pagonis seemed to be gloating as he compared his one plate of food to her two-plus.
“No.” Even the thought of more crab made her queasy.
“That’s good. I think they ran out.” He smiled, and then his phone buzzed. He looked down. “The video from the tram platform is here. Want to see?”
Kennedy pulled the chair to the other side of the table and inched her chair closer to his. “Absolutely.”
On the grainy video, the glass doors opened and Kennedy peered around the corner. It was blurry enough for her own face to be barely recognizable. Unfortunately, she’d lived it, so she knew what came next.
A fuzzy man— or woman— came up behind her and shoved her. Their jacket was nondescript. A hoody, maybe black. Black jeans. Nondescript shoes. Nothing that really stood out.
Pagonis sighed as the video clip ended. “That isn’t much help.”
“Next time I get pushed in front of a train, I’ll make sure to get their name and address first.”
“That would help. But if you could avoid getting pushed in front of a train, that would be great.” He smiled.
“Was that a joke, Detective?” She didn’t know he knew how to joke. But so far tonight he’d been full of zingers.
“I have a hell of a sense of humor, Romero.”
“You hide it well.”
Pagonis laughed. “Well, it’s hard to joke with the main suspect in a murder investigation.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not at the top of that list any longer.”
“True.” He nodded. “If you like my type of humor.”
Truth was she did, but one thing still bothered her. “But Darcy is on your list.”
“Yes.” He seemed to think about his next words. Some inner decision must have been reached, because he added, “But we have other leads.”
“Like?”
“We have a lead on one of the super fans.” He leaned sideways, and rested his arm along the back of the chair.
“Well, let’s go talk to him.” Kennedy thought about standing up and running for the door, but honestly, she was still waiting for that forklift.
Pagonis checked his watch. “It’s eight o’clock at night. We’ll go tomorrow.”
Eight. Talk about losing track of time. They needed to get as much information tonight as possible. At least Kennedy did. Tonight the delightful detective was playing nice, and tomorrow he could be back to asshole. “You’ll blow me off.”
He held up one hand and gave her the Boy Scout three-finger salute. “I promise to pick you up by car, bus, train, or plane and not blow you off.” If he wasn’t such an ass, the whole Boy Scout thing might be cute.
“Are you okay? I got your text.” Darcy whirled into the buffet dining room like a designer tornado. Her eyes first found Kennedy, but then laser-focused on Kennedy’s chair next to the detective.
Kennedy felt that stare like a mama bird catching her chick stealing a worm. She wanted to jump up and move the chair. She wanted to swear she wasn’t conspiring with the enemy. Kennedy didn’t know what to say, so she went with, “I ruined your jacket.”
“I don’t care about the jacket. Look at you.” Darcy lifted Kennedy’s bangs and winced. Not a surprise. A face versus train tracks was never good. The train tracks always won. “Why didn’t you come home?”
“I had to eat.” Kennedy pointed to the crab leg carnage.
“I would have fed you.” Darcy dragged a chair over and practically sat down on top of Kennedy. “You should be in a hospital.”
“The paramedics looked me over. I’m fine.”
Darcy seemed to be placated, at least until she re-noticed Kennedy’s eating companion. Her worried face morphed to angry. “And why are you with him?”
“Good to see you too, Mrs. Perrault.” Pagonis stood up and pulled out his wallet.
Kennedy really didn’t want tonight to end. Not because she liked him or anything. It had to do more with getting information. “You don’t have to go.”
Pagonis took two bills out of his wallet and dropped them onto the table. “Yeah, I do.”
“Thank you for dinner.”
“Yep.” He slid his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Tomorrow?”
He saluted her with three fingers and walked away.
“What’s tomorrow?” Darcy picked at the fries on Kennedy’s non-crab plate, popping one into her mouth.
“I’m going to tag along with him.”
“Are you serious?” Darcy’s eyes raged with fire as her teeth slowed their chewing. “There are millions of men in Las Vegas. Why are you trying to get with that one?”
“I’m not trying to get with anyone. I’m trying to make sure they follow through with the investigation and you don’t get railroaded.” Ooh. Too soon. Although maybe it was the pain shooting up her arm. Now that she wasn’t famished, she felt the effects of her run-in with the tracks. It could also have to do with the fact that the meds were probably wearing off. And Darcy was being an ass. “Is that really what you think of me? That I’d be looking for a hookup while the cops are looking at you for murder?”
“Of course not.” Darcy stood up. The words sounded right, but she didn’t even look at Kennedy. “We need to get you home.”
Part of Kennedy wanted to talk all this through with Darcy, but a bigger part of her was ridiculously tired. She wanted to go home and sleep. Or better yet, she wanted to go home and drink. But one drink always led to two, and two always led to nothing good. Sighing, she followed Darcy out of the restaurant.
Tonight had been rough—nearly getting run over and being called a ho by her best friend. She needed another meeting. Sooner rather than later. There was no way she was falling down that liquor hole again.