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and make sure I edited my comments appropriately.
After a moment, he sat back, evidently deciding to let the subject drop. For
the moment, anyhow. He nodded to the coffee and said, "You're welcome. It's
the least I can do if I'm going to call on a woman unannounced in the
morning."
"Do you do this for all the female suspects that you wake up from a sound
sleep?" I grumbled.
There was a pause before he said, "Actually, I'm off duty right now."
"Oh, really?" I was skeptical that this was purely a social call.
"Just wanted to talk," he said, spreading cream cheese on his bagel. "You and
me. Off the record."
"
That's what looks different about you today," I said, as the caffeine
infiltrated a few brain cells. So far, I'd seen him only in his detective
clothes neat, slightly conservative suits that looked budget-conscious but
well-made. Today he wore jeans, a denim jacket and a nice T-shirt that nearly
matched the blue, blue color of his dark-lashed eyes. "You're not dressed for
work."
"I don't go on duty until four o'clock."
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Have some food," he suggested. "You seem a little cranky."
"I've had three hours of sleep. I think."
"I'm relieved." He glanced at me. "That you're not always like this in the
morning, I mean. Uh, you're not, are you?"
"Humph." I bit into my bagel.
He looked around. The kitchen had almost enough room for a sit-down table big
enough for four people.
The kitchen (and the table) flowed into the living room, the two rooms being
partially separated by a counter. The bathroom was off the living room, which
was moderate in size, and there was a door at the other end of the room
leading onto a very small balcony. It overlooked a claustrophobic space
between four close-together buildings and offered no privacy, but it was
nonetheless a balcony.
"This is a good apartment," Lopez said, with a New York resident's standard
interest in living spaces.
"Uh-huh."
He leaned way back in his chair so he could look down the hallway. "You have
two bedrooms?" It was clear that this astonishing fact momentarily drove all
other thoughts from his mind.
"Yes."
"No roommate?"
"No."
"Two bedrooms?"
"You cannot have one of them," I said firmly.
"How can you afford two bedrooms?" When I gave him a chilly look, he added, "I
just mean, I don't know anyone living alone who can afford two bedrooms in
Manhattan."
I sighed and loosened up a little. "Yeah, it's a great apartment. I'm really
lucky." It was old and shabby, there was a mold problem in the bathroom, and
it certainly wasn't the swankiest neighborhood in the city though it was safer
than most people supposed, and almost everyone who lived on my street was a
longtime resident who knew most of the other neighbors by name. The landlord
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responded to repair requests in geological time, the window-unit air
conditioners were unreliable in summer, and the heating system was
unpredictable in winter. But by New York standards, this was a great
apartment especially at the rent I was paying. And it was a real luxury for a
struggling actress to have this much space to herself.
I poured milk into Lopez's coffee and started drinking it. Then I said, "It's
rent controlled. I moved in here with two other girls when I first came to New
York the back bedroom's tiny, barely big enough for just one person. Anyhow,
there was a series of roommates over the next few years, and then finally, I
was getting enough work that I decided to stop collecting new roommates when
the last two left the city."
I shrugged. "I figured I could cover rent by myself, and I was more than ready
to live alone by then."
"If
Sorcerer
! doesn't reopen, can you still cover rent by yourself?"
"You're great company in the morning, too," I said sourly.
"When the crystal cage is repaired, will you go on with the show?"
"When did that become police business?"
Off the record or not, he was on the job again. "Esther, just tell me straight
up. Do you really believe the stuff that Max Zadok was spouting in my house
yesterday?"
"He went to your house?" I said, puzzled.
"My precinct house," Lopez amended.
"You tell me something straight up," I said. "Are you satisfied that he's no
threat to " I stopped when I
heard an unfamiliar jingle. "What's that?"
"Excuse me." He reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone, then
frowned when he read the caller ID. "I'd better answer it. She'll just keep
calling every twenty minutes if I don't. I'm sorry, Esther.
This won't take long."
He flipped open his phone and, with a look of long-suffering patience, said,
"Hi, Mom."
I snorted into my coffee and smirked at his warning glare.
"Yeah. Uh-huh. No. No." After a moment, he said, "Let's try this again.
No
. I said no. Have you gone deaf? Mom& " He winced and pulled the phone away
from his ear, then covered the receiver with his hand and said to me, "You
would be amazed at the number of friends my mom has who have single
daughters living in the city. All of them, it would seem, in such desperate
need of a date that they have authorized our mothers to act as matchmakers."
"Surely not."
"Yeah, I don't really think so, either, but my mom keeps swearing it's so. I'm
guessing her Confessor knows the truth, though. Lucky for her, lying's only a
venial sin."
I guessed, "Your mom is where your blue eyes come from?"
He nodded. "Bridget Eileen Donovan."
"And your Dad?"
"From Cuba. Came over when he was young."
And was, no doubt, the source of Lopez's exotic good looks, I thought, aware
of the crisp black hair brushing his collar and the smooth, dark skin of his
throat.
He put the phone back to his ear. "Yes, Mom, I'm still here. No, I can't. No."
He listened. "There a is good reason." In response to her next question, he
said, "Because I've met someone I like."
Our eyes locked. I suddenly wished I didn't look like such a hag today.
"No," he said into the phone, "I'm not lying just to get rid of you. Uh-huh.
Yes, she's female. No, not married. Yes, still in her childbearing years."
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I choked on my coffee.
"Well, I haven't looked everywhere yet, but I haven't noticed any excessive
piercing." He listened for a moment. "Pretty?" His gaze ran over me. "Well,
sometimes."
I glared at him.
He grinned and added, "In her way."
I drank more coffee, pretending to ignore him.
"No, I think she's Jewish." When I continued ignoring him, he poked my calf
with his foot. "Right?" I
nodded and he said, "Yeah, Jewish. No, she won't convert. Yes, I'm sure. No, I
don't want Father
Devaney to give her a call." After another moment, he said, "No, we haven't
talked about how we'll raise the children. Or the wedding& Actually, no. No.
No, not that, either& Well, because we haven't been on a date yet. No, I'm not
sure we will."
He held the phone away from his ear again while his mother squawked. Then he
said to her, "Because I
suspect she's crazy, and I'm a little afraid that she's committed a felony.
And you can see how that would be a conflict of interest for me." In response
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