Point of Betrayal by Ann Roberts Page B

two lily-white octogenarians in Hawaiian shirts and Bermuda shorts.
    Dorothy Lyons, her favorite neighbor, waved. “Hi, Molly! Look who’s here!”
    Her companion, another tenant named Howard Birnbaum, glanced up from his copy of the
Arizona Republic
. “Why are you shoutin’? She’s not blind. She can see him clear as day, at least for now. Blindness won’t come for another forty years if she’s lucky.”
    “Shut up, you old coot. I was being friendly and welcoming.”
    “What’s to welcome? She lives here.”
    “Go back to reading the obituaries. Maybe you’ll get some good ideas for yours. Then we’ll know what to write.”
    He snorted and returned to his paper.
    “Hey, Mol,” Andre said, pulling her into a hug. When she tried to let go, he held her tighter. “I miss you so much. The department’s just not the same without you.”
    She swallowed another sob and said, “Let’s go inside.” She turned to Dorothy and Howard. “Thanks for keeping him company.”
    Dorothy waved her off. “No problem, sweetie, and when you get a chance can you check out my disposal? It’s making that funny whirring noise again.”
    Molly looked at her skeptically. “You weren’t trying to stick corncobs down there again, were you?”
    “Oh, no, I learned my lesson. What a mess that was! I’ve only used it for table scraps, just like you told me.” She turned to Andre and said, “This is the first time in my life I’ve ever had a garbage disposal, not counting any of my ex-husbands. I had no idea there were rules.”
    “They’re very handy,” he replied. “It was nice seeing you again.”
    “Same here, handsome, and if that girlfriend of yours keeps giving you grief, let me talk to her.”
    They walked to her apartment and he asked, “What was that about the disposal?”
    “I’m the property manager for now. It helps pay the bills.”
    She was grateful there wasn’t laundry hanging from her piano. Since she’d left Ari, she’d allowed herself to slip back into habits Ari would never tolerate.
    “Do you want some juice or water?”
    He shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. She knew he was nervous. He’d only been to her place twice. They had been work colleagues and rarely associated outside of the department. A twinge of jealousy stepped between them for a moment as she saw the difference. He was still a cop, not a great cop but a good one, but still, a
cop
. She was nobody except someone who fixed disposals and installed faucets.
    “I came by because Jack thought you might have remembered something else that might help us catch Lola, a detail, anything.”
    She leaned against the counter. “No, I told him everything I could remember. Are they pressuring you guys to wrap up the task force?”
    “Yeah. There’s a new female chief coming in and she wants it done. If we don’t have any leads she’ll shut it down and Vince Carnotti will slip away again. Think, Mol. There’s gotta be a clue, something she wore or a comment she let slip. People aren’t that careful.”
    She cradled her chin in her palm and remembered Lola, the sexy blonde whose charms she’d finally succumbed to after Ari betrayed her. Lola had come on to her a few times when she’d snuck into Hideaway for a drink to escape Ari’s suffocating love. She pictured each meeting separately—at the bar, in the back room and finally in the manager’s office.
    “What about her clothes?” he offered. “Talk it through with me.”
    “She typically wore a black dress with different accessories, but there’s nothing unusual about that. Most women only have one or two outfits for bar-hopping.”
    “Jewelry, shoes?”
    She shook her head. “Nope.”
    “What about her purse? Did you ever see inside or did she ever answer her cell phone?”
    She hadn’t thought about that. Once when they were sitting at the bar her phone had rung. Molly was half drunk and too focused on her own troubles to pay attention. She’d seen the