“Stanislaski.” Trilwalter crooked his finger, then pointed it, gesturing to Alex to come in and shut the door. He leaned back in his chair, folded his hands over his flat belly and scowled.
“What the hell is all this about soap operas?”
“Sir?”
“Soap operas,” Trilwalter repeated. “I just had a call from the mayor.”
Testing his ground, Alex nodded slowly. “The mayor called you about soap operas?”
“You look confused, Detective.” A rare, and not entirely humor-filled, smile curved Trilwalter’s mouth. “That makes two of us. The name McNee mean anything to you? Bess McNee?”
Alex closed his eyes a moment. “Oh, boy.”
“Rings a bell, does it?”
“Yes, sir.” Alex gave himself a brief moment to contemplate murder. “Miss McNee and I have a personal relationship. Sort of.”
“I’m not interested in your personal relationship, sort of or otherwise. Unless they come across my desk.”
“When I arrested her—”
“Arrested her?” Trilwalter held up one hand while he took off his glasses. Slowly, methodically, he massaged the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think I have to know about that. No, I’m sure I don’t.”
Despite himself, Alex began to see the humor in it. “If I could say so, Captain, Bess tends to bring that kind of reaction out in a man.”
“She’s a writer?”
“Yes, sir. For ‘Secret Sins.’”
Trilwalter lifted tired eyes. “‘Secret Sins.’ Apparently the mayor is quite a fan. Not only a fan, Detective, but an old chum of your Bess McNee’s.Old chumwas just how he put it.”
Finding discretion in silence, Alex said nothing as Trilwalter rose. The captain walked to the watercooler wedged between two file cabinets in the corner of his office. He poured out a paper cupful and drank it down.
“His honor, the mayor, requests that Miss McNee be permitted to observe a day in your life, Detective.”
Alex made a comment normally reserved for locker rooms and pool halls. Trilwalter nodded sagely.
“My sentiments exactly. However, one of the less appealing aspects of working this particular desk is playing politics. You lose, Detective.”
“Captain, we’re closing in on that robbery on Lexington. I’ve got a new lead on the hooker murders and a message on my desk from a snitch who could know something about that stiff we found down on East Twenty-third. How am I supposed to work with some ditzy woman hanging over my shoulder?”
“This is the ditzy woman you have a personal relationship with?”
Alex opened his mouth, then closed it again. How to explain Bess? “Sort of,” he said at length. “Look, Captain, I already agreed to talk to McNee about police work, in general, now and again. I never agreed to specifics. I sure as hell don’t want her riding shotgun while I work.”
“A day in your life, Stanislaski.” With that same grim smile, Trilwalter crushed his cup and tossed it. “Monday next, to be exact.”
“Captain—”
“Deal with it,” Trilwalter said. “And see that she stays out of trouble.”
Dismissed, Alex stalked back to his desk. He was still muttering to himself when Judd wandered over with two cups of coffee.
“Problem?”
“Women,” Alex said.
“Tell me about it.” Because he’d been waiting all morning for the chance, Judd sat on the edge of Alex’s desk. “Speaking of women, did you know that Bess was engaged to L.D. Strater?”
