never been arrested.”
“But you gotta know that stuff,” he said. “You gotta talk to enough people that you find it out. Now there’s a question about these other women. Are they pros? One of them claims that she’s still a virgin—not that anybody got out his flashlight and looked. If they’re pros, then we’ve got a whole other problem than the one we started with.”
“Is that bad, or is that good?”
He thought about it and said, finally, “Too early to tell. Actually, it might be good. If the guy is hitting on hookers, we’ve limited the number of people we have to look at, and I’ve got pretty good connections in the area.”
“So twelve hours into the investigation, you’re already a genius. And you look like you’re enjoying yourself, pissed off as you are.”
“Hmph.” He remembered the mayor’s announcement. “Did you watch any TV tonight?”
“No. Were you on?”
“No, but there were a couple of stories . . . . The thing is, I might be out of a job in a few months.” He told her about it, and the unlikeliness that he’d be reappointed by a new chief.
“So if we do get pregnant, we won’t have to find a nanny,” Weather said.
“That’s not exactly how . . . You’re jerking my chain. This is serious.”
“If you really want to keep the job, you can figure out a way to do it,” Weather said. “But maybe it’s time to try something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something else. You’ve done one thing all of your life. Maybe you could do something . . .”
He picked up her direction. “Kinder and gentler.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” she said. “You were sorta good at business.” Lucas had briefly been the nominal CEO of a computer company that produced simulations for police 911 systems. He’d hired another guy for the job as soon as he could, and had gone back to the police department.
“Nothing I’ve ever done is as brutal as what corporate execs do all the time,” Lucas said. “I’ve never fired anybody. Never taken a perfectly innocent hardworking guy and screwed up his life and his family and his kids and his dog, because somebody needed to put an extra penny on the fuckin’ dividend.”
“Communist,” she said.
L ATER THAT EVENING, Lucas sat up in bed and sighed.
“Oh, go on,” Weather said. She pulled a blanket up to her chin.
“What?” But he knew.
“Go on, see if you can find this guy. The one getting the blow jobs.”
“Not much of a night for finding guys,” Lucas said, his eyes drifting toward the bedside clock.
“Lucas, you’ve been twitching ever since we got in bed,” she said.
“Del was gonna be out late,” he said, tentatively.
“Then call him. I’m working tomorrow so I’ve got to go to sleep anyway. I won’t if you keep twitching. Go.”
Lucas pretended to struggle with the idea for a moment, then kicked back the sheet, crawled across her to reach the telephone on the nightstand, and called Del’s cell phone. Del answered on the first ring. “What?”
“You awake?”
“I hope so. If I’m not, I’m dreaming that I’m standing in a puddle of slush at Twenty-ninth and Hennepin, with snow blowing down my neck.”
“It’s snowing?”
“Yeah. The snow pushed the rain right out of the picture.”
“I’m in bed with Weather. We’re warm and naked,” Lucas said. Weather reached beneath his chest and gave one of his nipples a vicious pinch. “Ow. Jesus Christ . . .” He bounced away from her.
“What?” Del asked.
“Never mind,” Lucas said, rubbing his chest. “You know the Cobra over in St. Paul?”
“My home away from home,” Del said.
“There’s a guy who hangs out there, a Larry Lapp. Julie Aronson was playing his bagpipe at a hundred bucks a toot. That’s what I’m told.”
“Do tell. Want to look him up?”
“Yeah. Meet me there in half an hour,” Lucas said.
“If you meet me there in half an hour, and you’re really naked and warm in bed right now,
“But you gotta know that stuff,” he said. “You gotta talk to enough people that you find it out. Now there’s a question about these other women. Are they pros? One of them claims that she’s still a virgin—not that anybody got out his flashlight and looked. If they’re pros, then we’ve got a whole other problem than the one we started with.”
“Is that bad, or is that good?”
He thought about it and said, finally, “Too early to tell. Actually, it might be good. If the guy is hitting on hookers, we’ve limited the number of people we have to look at, and I’ve got pretty good connections in the area.”
“So twelve hours into the investigation, you’re already a genius. And you look like you’re enjoying yourself, pissed off as you are.”
“Hmph.” He remembered the mayor’s announcement. “Did you watch any TV tonight?”
“No. Were you on?”
“No, but there were a couple of stories . . . . The thing is, I might be out of a job in a few months.” He told her about it, and the unlikeliness that he’d be reappointed by a new chief.
“So if we do get pregnant, we won’t have to find a nanny,” Weather said.
“That’s not exactly how . . . You’re jerking my chain. This is serious.”
“If you really want to keep the job, you can figure out a way to do it,” Weather said. “But maybe it’s time to try something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something else. You’ve done one thing all of your life. Maybe you could do something . . .”
He picked up her direction. “Kinder and gentler.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” she said. “You were sorta good at business.” Lucas had briefly been the nominal CEO of a computer company that produced simulations for police 911 systems. He’d hired another guy for the job as soon as he could, and had gone back to the police department.
“Nothing I’ve ever done is as brutal as what corporate execs do all the time,” Lucas said. “I’ve never fired anybody. Never taken a perfectly innocent hardworking guy and screwed up his life and his family and his kids and his dog, because somebody needed to put an extra penny on the fuckin’ dividend.”
“Communist,” she said.
L ATER THAT EVENING, Lucas sat up in bed and sighed.
“Oh, go on,” Weather said. She pulled a blanket up to her chin.
“What?” But he knew.
“Go on, see if you can find this guy. The one getting the blow jobs.”
“Not much of a night for finding guys,” Lucas said, his eyes drifting toward the bedside clock.
“Lucas, you’ve been twitching ever since we got in bed,” she said.
“Del was gonna be out late,” he said, tentatively.
“Then call him. I’m working tomorrow so I’ve got to go to sleep anyway. I won’t if you keep twitching. Go.”
Lucas pretended to struggle with the idea for a moment, then kicked back the sheet, crawled across her to reach the telephone on the nightstand, and called Del’s cell phone. Del answered on the first ring. “What?”
“You awake?”
“I hope so. If I’m not, I’m dreaming that I’m standing in a puddle of slush at Twenty-ninth and Hennepin, with snow blowing down my neck.”
“It’s snowing?”
“Yeah. The snow pushed the rain right out of the picture.”
“I’m in bed with Weather. We’re warm and naked,” Lucas said. Weather reached beneath his chest and gave one of his nipples a vicious pinch. “Ow. Jesus Christ . . .” He bounced away from her.
“What?” Del asked.
“Never mind,” Lucas said, rubbing his chest. “You know the Cobra over in St. Paul?”
“My home away from home,” Del said.
“There’s a guy who hangs out there, a Larry Lapp. Julie Aronson was playing his bagpipe at a hundred bucks a toot. That’s what I’m told.”
“Do tell. Want to look him up?”
“Yeah. Meet me there in half an hour,” Lucas said.
“If you meet me there in half an hour, and you’re really naked and warm in bed right now,
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