THE WIND WAS to our backs as Conklin and I unlocked our cars.
I said across the roof, “Here’s a thought, Richie. They’re padding their time sheets. I wonder how many hundreds of man-hours they can bury in a case with no witnesses. The more dead ends, the better.”
“Like a factory slowdown, you’re saying. Could be.”
“What should we do about it?” I asked him.
“We should go home, Lindsay. I’m gonna have a couple of beers and grab some quality time with my woman before she falls asleep.”
I felt a pang from a promise I hadn’t kept. I told Conklin I’d see him in the morning, got into my vehicle, and turned on the engine. While the car warmed up, I called Joe.
When he picked up, I said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier. We got involved here in a conflict that didn’t quite melt down into a dispute. Is everything okay at home? … Good. I’ll be home in twenty minutes. Tops.”
I made it home in less.
I opened the front door, expecting Martha, my old doggy, to charge at me with her trademark welcome-home woofing. But instead Joe was waiting inside the doorway.
He helped me out of my coat and holster.
“You look like you need a drink,” he said.
“Do I?”
“Did you eat?”
“I didn’t even think about food.”
“You’re in luck, Blondie. Big bowl of beef stew is coming right up.”
“Yummy,” I said with enthusiasm I didn’t feel. I wasn’t hungry at all. “Where is everybody?”
He told me, “Julie is curled up with Martha, both of them snoring.”
I threw myself down on the sofa and toed off my shoes. Joe headed to the kitchen, an open-space galley separated from the living room by an island. He talked about TV news while heating up my dinner.
Then he said, “Come sit at the table and tell me all about what happened tonight.”
I dropped into a chair and watched Joe taking care of me. He uncorked the wine and set down two glasses. The oven pinged and Joe brought my dinner to the table, sat across from me, and gave me that most wonderful of gifts: his undivided attention. I swear, it brought tears to my eyes.
“Let’s hear it,” Joe said. “Start talking.”
I told him the four-word headline.
“Dirty, no-good cops.”