disappointment was one thing. A man learned to live with disappointments. Hadn’t he slept alone? Finding a cop at his door was another. It meant nimbling up the brain without the God-given and inalienable right of caffeine.
He sized up the local heat—big, fit, suspicious—and tried on a cooperative if puzzled smile. “Morning. That doesn’t look like a room service uniform, so I’m guessing you’re not here to deliver my coffee and eggs.”
“I’m Chief Burger, Mr. Gannon. Can I have a minute of your time?”
“Sure.” He stepped back, glanced at the room. The bed was unmade, and steam from the shower was still drifting into the room through the open bathroom door.
The desk looked like the hotel room desk of a busy businessman—laptop, file folders and disks, his PDA, his cell phone—and that was fine. He’d taken the precaution, as he always did, of closing down all files and stashing any questionable paperwork.
“Ah . . .” Max gestured vaguely to the chair. “Have a seat,” he invited and walked to the closet to pull out a shirt. “Is there some problem?”
Vince didn’t sit; he didn’t smile. “You’re acquainted with Laine Tavish.”
“Yeah.” A lot of little warning bells went off and echoed with questions, but Max just pulled on the shirt. “Remember When. I bought a present for my mother at her place yesterday.” He put a shadow of concern in his voice. “Something wrong with my credit card?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Miss Tavish’s residence was broken into last night.”
“Is she all right? Was she hurt?” He didn’t have to feign concern now as those alarm bells shot through him. The hands that had been busily buttoning his shirt dropped to his side. “Where is she?”
“She wasn’t on the premises at the time of the break-in. Her statement indicates she was with you.”
“We had dinner. Damn it.” As coffee was no longer paramount on his list, Max cursed at the knock. “Hold on a minute.” He opened the door to the cute little blonde who stood by the room service cart.
“Morning, Mr. Gannon. Ready for breakfast?”
“Yeah, thanks. Just . . . put it anywhere.”
She caught sight of Vince as she rolled in the cart. “Oh, hi, Chief.”
“Sherry. How you doing?”
“Oh . . . you know.” She angled the cart and tried not to look overly curious as she shot glances at both men. “I can go down, get another cup if you want coffee, Chief.”
“Don’t you worry about it, Sherry. I had two before I left the house.”
“Just call down if you change your mind.” She pulled the warming cover off a plate, revealing an omelette and a side of bacon. “Um . . .” She held out the leather folder to Max, waited while he signed the bill. “Hope you enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Gannon.”
She walked out, casting one last look over her shoulder before she shut the door.
“Go ahead,” Vince invited. “No point letting those eggs get cold. They make a nice omelette here.”
“What kind of break-in was it? Burglary?”
“Looked that way. Why was Miss Tavish with you last night?”
Max sat, decided to pour the coffee. “Socializing. I asked her to have a drink with me. She agreed. I hoped to be able to extend that to dinner, and since she was agreeable to that after we had a drink—down in the lounge here—we went into the dining room.”
“You always make dates with women when you buy presents for your mother?”
“If it worked that well, I’d be buying my mama a lot more presents.” Max lifted his cup, drank and met Vince’s eyes over the rim. “Laine’s a very attractive, very interesting woman. I wanted to see her, socially. I asked. I’m sorry she’s got trouble.”
“Somebody got in and out of her place during the time she was in town here, socializing with you.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Max decided he might as well eat, and forked up some omelette. “So you’re wondering if I go around hitting on pretty women in shops, then setting
He sized up the local heat—big, fit, suspicious—and tried on a cooperative if puzzled smile. “Morning. That doesn’t look like a room service uniform, so I’m guessing you’re not here to deliver my coffee and eggs.”
“I’m Chief Burger, Mr. Gannon. Can I have a minute of your time?”
“Sure.” He stepped back, glanced at the room. The bed was unmade, and steam from the shower was still drifting into the room through the open bathroom door.
The desk looked like the hotel room desk of a busy businessman—laptop, file folders and disks, his PDA, his cell phone—and that was fine. He’d taken the precaution, as he always did, of closing down all files and stashing any questionable paperwork.
“Ah . . .” Max gestured vaguely to the chair. “Have a seat,” he invited and walked to the closet to pull out a shirt. “Is there some problem?”
Vince didn’t sit; he didn’t smile. “You’re acquainted with Laine Tavish.”
“Yeah.” A lot of little warning bells went off and echoed with questions, but Max just pulled on the shirt. “Remember When. I bought a present for my mother at her place yesterday.” He put a shadow of concern in his voice. “Something wrong with my credit card?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Miss Tavish’s residence was broken into last night.”
“Is she all right? Was she hurt?” He didn’t have to feign concern now as those alarm bells shot through him. The hands that had been busily buttoning his shirt dropped to his side. “Where is she?”
“She wasn’t on the premises at the time of the break-in. Her statement indicates she was with you.”
“We had dinner. Damn it.” As coffee was no longer paramount on his list, Max cursed at the knock. “Hold on a minute.” He opened the door to the cute little blonde who stood by the room service cart.
“Morning, Mr. Gannon. Ready for breakfast?”
“Yeah, thanks. Just . . . put it anywhere.”
She caught sight of Vince as she rolled in the cart. “Oh, hi, Chief.”
“Sherry. How you doing?”
“Oh . . . you know.” She angled the cart and tried not to look overly curious as she shot glances at both men. “I can go down, get another cup if you want coffee, Chief.”
“Don’t you worry about it, Sherry. I had two before I left the house.”
“Just call down if you change your mind.” She pulled the warming cover off a plate, revealing an omelette and a side of bacon. “Um . . .” She held out the leather folder to Max, waited while he signed the bill. “Hope you enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Gannon.”
She walked out, casting one last look over her shoulder before she shut the door.
“Go ahead,” Vince invited. “No point letting those eggs get cold. They make a nice omelette here.”
“What kind of break-in was it? Burglary?”
“Looked that way. Why was Miss Tavish with you last night?”
Max sat, decided to pour the coffee. “Socializing. I asked her to have a drink with me. She agreed. I hoped to be able to extend that to dinner, and since she was agreeable to that after we had a drink—down in the lounge here—we went into the dining room.”
“You always make dates with women when you buy presents for your mother?”
“If it worked that well, I’d be buying my mama a lot more presents.” Max lifted his cup, drank and met Vince’s eyes over the rim. “Laine’s a very attractive, very interesting woman. I wanted to see her, socially. I asked. I’m sorry she’s got trouble.”
“Somebody got in and out of her place during the time she was in town here, socializing with you.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Max decided he might as well eat, and forked up some omelette. “So you’re wondering if I go around hitting on pretty women in shops, then setting
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