“Nomi Pace?” Detective Calvin Gaffney seems genuinely surprised to see her, which is wild because this is homicide related and they’re in her district: They’dhaveto know she’d make inquiries. It doesn’t say much for the general level of intelligence at the precinct since her departure if they haven’t figured that out. “Ah geez, I thought it was you. Someone finally got ya, huh?”
He nods toward her bruised eye and makes a shit-eating grin, which has always been one of Gaffney’s standard facial expressions. God, she hates twerps like him.
“Yeah, they got me all right.” Nomi tries to make her tight smile look more normal. Beside her, close enough to maintain contact, Simon Noone seems ominously quiet. “Fancy bumping into you, huh?”
“So, what, are you here on business?” Gaffney removes the lid of his coffee, takes a casual sip as he comes closer. “Did you just try to check Janice D’Addario’s apartment?”
“Yeah, I did,” Nomi confesses. “I just came by to see Janice, but I guess she’s not home.”
“Well, yeah. Janice is gone. Whoops, skedaddled.” Gaffney swaps hands on the coffee cup, shaking out his burning fingers. “Andrespectfully, you probably shouldn’t be poking your nose into this one, Pace. This is out of your line.”
“It’s all my line these days, Calvin—you know that.” Now Nomi’s showing some teeth. “And it’s not exactly your line, either, is it? Why’s Balter sent you to Greenwich Village from Tenth Precinct? Are the guys from Sixth all washing their hair or something?”
“Hey, I just go where I’m told.”
“So here you are, just hanging around, watching the place ...”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing.” Gaffney nods importantly. “Keeping an eye out for Janice, securing the scene—normal cop stuff. I’m sure you remember that.”
“It’s not a crime scene, though, is it? There’s no tape.”
“No tape, but it’s out of bounds.” Gaffney looks through his glasses and down his nose at her. “And that’s all you need to know about it. Police business isn’t your concern no more if you ain’t police, you know what I’m saying?”
Noone has lost interest in the conversation; he’s crouched down to fix the buckle on his boot. Nomi tilts her head to see Calvin Gaffney from a better angle, but he still doesn’t look less annoying.
“Calvin, this isn’t just police business,” she points out. “It’s district business. That’s why people hire me. I heard about Ricki, so I figured I’d drop in on Janice. But you being here kind of tells me there’s more to it. Is this connected to Lamonte? Or maybe Arthur Galetti?”
Gaffney seems flustered, which is satisfying. “Look—”
“What about this guy?” Nomi snaps open the paper folds on Noone’s sketch.
Gaffney steps in, squints at the drawing. “Jesus, Pace. What are you doing walking around with a picture of Claude Ameche in your back pocket?”
“Claude Ameche, right ...” Nomi says. “Well, it’s been a pleasure talking with you as always, Calvin.”
“Look, respectfully? You don’t know what you’re doing, and I’m gonna suggest you stay out of it.” Gaffney is letting his irritation getthe better of him. “When Balter hears you’ve been bumbling around his crime scene, he’s gonna be real unhappy. We’re trying to conduct an investigation, and you’re—”
“I’m not trying to get in the way of any investigation,” Nomi says. “Andrespectfully, Balter needs to calm the hell down.”
“Listen, you’re out of your depth on this one, Pace.” Gaffney swaps hands on his coffee again, sneering at her. “You want to investigate Galetti? You should’ve sucked dick like a good little girl and stayed on the force—”
Noone rises abruptly from his crouch. His shoulder brushes Gaffney’s elbow and somehow knocks the cup he’s holding: Sixteen ounces of hot black premium roast spills straight down Gaffney’s front.
Gaffney screams, jumps so hard he dislodges his glasses. “Ahhh,fuck!What the fuck!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Noone says in a flat voice. “I didn’t mean to bump you.”
“You didn’t mean to ... What thefuck?” Gaffney swipes at his jacket, holds his sodden turtleneck away from his chest with pinching fingers. “Who the fuck areyou?”
“Nobody.” Nomi wants to laugh but she really can’t. She tugs on Noone’s arm. “He’s nobody.”
“That was all my fault,” Noone says. “I do apologize.”
“Seriously, man!” Gaffney exclaims.
“Real sorry about that!” Nomi is practically dragging Noone away. “Anyway, hey, thanks for the warning, Detective. We’ll get out of your hair, okay? Bye!”
She uses a combination of shoving and pulling to get Noone out of the courtyard and through the shadowed tunnel of the carriage entrance, onto the Downing Street sidewalk. Noone seems to want to keep checking back on Calvin Gaffney, who’s still swearing in the courtyard and shaking coffee out of his stupid jacket. Who buys corduroy?
