“What kind?”
“I don’t know. A scar, on his hip. Angie told Rosalie he got upset when she asked him about it. That’s all she told me, Alexi, but I figured the coincidence of the pendants, you might want to know about this guy.”
“It never hurts.” He gave her an easy smile, though his instincts were humming. “Probably nothing, but I’ll look into it.” He tugged on her hair. “Do yourself a favor, and don’t tell Rosalie you passed this along to me.”
“I’m softhearted, Detective. Not softheaded. She thinks you have a really nice butt—but you’re still a cop.”
He grimaced. “I don’t think I like you discussing my anatomy with a—”
“Friend,” she supplied, with a warning lift of her brow. “I also had lunch with your sister. We discussed your nasty temperament.”
“I heard.” He stole her bagel. “Radcliffe, huh?”
“So?”
“So nothing. Want to go dancing with me?”
She debated with herself for almost a full second. “Okay. Tonight?”
“Can’t. Tomorrow?”
It meant canceling dinner at Le Cirque with L.D. Strater. That debate took nearly half a second. “That’s fine. Sexy or sedate?”
“Sexy. Definitely.”
“Good. Why don’t you come by around—” She glanced at the clock, stared, then yelped. “Damn it! Now I’m going to be late. I’ll owe Lori twenty dollars if I’m late one more time this month.” She began pushing Alex out of the kitchen. “It’s all your fault. Now beat it, so I can throw on some clothes and get out of here.”
“Since you’re already late...” He had some very good moves. Even as she shoved him toward the door, he was turning to catch her close. “I can arrange it so you’re a lot later.”
“Smooth talker,” she said with a laugh. “Take a hike.”
“You’ve already lost twenty. I’m just offering to make it worth your while.”
“I don’t know how I can resist that incredibly romantic gesture, but somehow I find I have the strength.”
“You want romance?” There was a gleam in his eyes as he headed for the door. “Tomorrow night. We’ll just see how strong you are.”
Chapter 6
After spending most of the morning kicking his heels in court, waiting to testify in an assault case, Alex returned to the station to find his partner hip-deep in paperwork. “The boss wants to see you,” Judd said through a mouthful of chocolate bar.
“Right.” Alex shrugged out of his jacket and dragged off his court-appearance tie. With his free hand, he picked up his pile of messages.
“I think he meant now,” Judd said helpfully.
“I got it.” As he passed Judd’s desk, Alex peeked over his shoulder at the report in the typewriter. “Twop’sin apprehend, Einstein.”
Judd backspaced and scowled. “You sure?”
“Trust me.” He swung through the squad room and knocked on Captain Trilwalter’s glass door.
“Come.”
Trilwalter glanced up. If Alex often thought he was swamped in paperwork, it was nothing compared to what surrounded his captain. Trilwalter’s desk was heaped with it. The overflowing files, stacks of reports and correspondence gave Trilwalter a bookish, accountantlike look. This was enhanced by the half glasses perched on his long, narrow nose, the slightly balding head and the ruthlessly knotted knit tie.
But Alex knew better. Trilwalter was a cop down to the bone, and he might still be on the street but for the bullet that had damaged his left lung.
“You wanted to see me, Captain?”
