“I’m not here yet for the evening,” Hugh says. He’s in a dress shirt, tie, and pinstriped suit pants. “Tonight’s whenwe have that toast for the partner who’s retiring. I ended up spilling an entire cup of coffee into my lap this afternoon, and there was no way I could show up in those damn pants.”
“Oh, gosh, that must have hurt.”
He grins, a Hugh grin that I haven’t seen in a while. “It wasn’t fun, but fortunately my manhood was spared.”
“Good to know,” I say.
“How was Dr. Erling?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. I’m sure you need to go. Who is it that’s retiring?”
“J. P. Ross. I mentioned it a few weeks ago, but maybe it’s one of those things that, you know, slipped away.”
“No, I remember now that you say the name.” The words sound more defensive than I intended. “The only things I don’t recall, Hugh, are those two days.”
He nods, lips pressed together. “Okay, let me grab my jacket. I should be home no later than eight. I wish I could whisk you someplace nice for dinner tonight, but I’m going to have to work again.”
“I’ll figure something out for us. Do you want me to drop your pants at the cleaner?”
“No, don’t bother. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
While he heads back to the bedroom, I move over to the kitchen island. I feel restless, still on edge from my appointment. My gaze wanders onto the countertop and is dragged by a gravitational-like pull to Hugh’s phone. I almost never have occasion to touch it, but my fingers move in that direction, seemingly of their own volition.
Before I can think about it, I snatch his phone from the counter. I press the four keys for his password—for practicalreasons we’ve shared ours with each other—and check the last number in the call log. It’s an outgoing one to his office, eight minutes ago. Then I proceed to the address book, where I search for Sasha’s name, and exhale in relief when it’s not there.
“Speaking of the cleaner, your trench coat is back,” he calls from the bedroom, making me jump. “I sent it out last week.”
“Um, okay, thanks,” I call back. “I’m going to run out for a while and it will be good to have it in the rain.”
Next, with jerky fingers, I search for one more name. And with a jolt, I spot it there.Ashley Budd.Before I can determine if he’s called the number lately, Hugh comes striding down the corridor. I’m still holding his phone in my hand.
“Here, don’t forget this,” I say, thrusting it in his direction.
“I won’t,” he responds, eyes curious. He leans forward and kisses me softly on the lips. “See you soon.”
Okay, I tell myself as soon as he closes the door.It might not mean anything.She could have easily thrust her number on him when he bumped into her a few weeks ago at the Yale Club. Or he may have had it since law school.
Anyway, I can’t think about it right now. I have to relax,let go. Instead of tea, I decide, I’ll head to the bistro where I met with Roger and have a glass of wine.
My phone rings as I’m tearing off the dry-cleaning plastic on my trench coat. It’s Roger.Please, I think,don’t let him be calling to tell me that Corbet wants to see me again.
“Ally, hi,” he says when I answer. “Everything okay?”
“Pretty much. I’m sorry I haven’t called you yet. I so appreciate everything you did yesterday.”
“Don’t be silly, you’ve got a ton on your mind. I just wanted to check in, make sure you weren’t fretting.”
I sigh. “Unfortunately, it’s been hard to keep the fretting at bay. Any luck with Nowak?”
“No, you were right. He told me he wasn’t at liberty to discuss the case. Even managed to sound a little blunt with me, which isn’t his usual style.”
Is the bluntness a sign that he’s suspicious of me?
“Seems like the best course of action is to leave well enough alone,” Roger continues. “You did your part. And if they decide to open up the investigation again, you’ll know soon enough. No need to worry.”
“I appreciate the advice, Rog.” I just wish I could follow it.
“Any more news from your private detective? What’s his name—Mulroney?”
