I shoved the image away. The last thing I wanted was to detain a police officer, especially here. One person strolling by, one casual peer in the window, they'd see him.
No, that was a bad idea for so many reasons.
Getzoff glanced down at the floor. "That would be an interesting dining experience."
"Yes, it would," I agreed, keeping my tone as congenial as possible. "I don't think it'll catch on, though. People like the comfort of a good chair and a table."
"Yes, a good chair is definitely a must," he said, injecting meaning into it I couldn't quite figure out.
Was there any way he knew about Solomon Danforth tying Boner and Archer to chairs?
Not unless one of us told him. Solomon's minions weren't around to tell the tale.
No, Getzoff was guessing, but I didn't know why or how it was so specific.
I'm being paranoid, I told myself.He's making small talk. I'm reading things into it that aren't there.
Was it a police detective thing, to speak in a way that made people twitch? As if they'd confess some great crime after he put on the back foot?
Good luck with that. I wasn't going to be back-footed so easily.
"I can show you to a table if you like," I said. "Then I really should get back to work."
I'd stopped turning the handle. I started again now. Winced when the pasta came out the other end slightly wonky. I cursed myself. I'd have to put it through again. Yes, no one would knowwhen it was buried under sauce, butI'dknow. The imperfection would drive me up the wall.
"That's not necessary." Getzoff gave me a smile as though he was being generous in some way. Like leaving me to get back to my job was a big deal for him.
I managed to contain a bristle. Men who were full of their own importance also drove me up the wall. It didn't matter what someone looked like on the outside. If they were arrogant on the inside, they weren't my type.
Smooth as hell wasn't my type either, to be honest. I liked my men a little rough around the edges. Who didn't look at me like I climbed a ladder and stabbed the moon to death.
People, yes, not the moon.
Getzoff gave Cass another long look, then turned and walked over to the table beside the window. He pulled out the chair for himself and sat down before picking up the menu and scanning it.
"Have you ever poisoned anyone?" Cass asked in my ear, making me startle.
"What? No." I turned around quickly. "For one thing, that could be traced back to us. For another, he hasn't done anything wrong."
"Not yet," Cass said on an exhale. "You know he's going to, though. He has that look."
I wanted to ask what look, but instead I nodded.
"He really does." I pressed the back of my hand to his chest, over his heart and whispered "Someone like Granger Fairfield."
Cass glanced down at me, then back at the detective. "Yeah, exactly. He's got that 'I can do whatever the fuck I want, and no one can stop me' thing going on."
"That still doesn't mean he's up to something," I pointed out.
He hadn't accused us of anything. Didn't pull out a badge and insist on searching the place.
Of course, he'd need a search warrant for that. Honestly, I'd be happy for him to search the place to his heart's content. He wouldn't find anything here. I was much too careful for that.
Besides, it was months since anyone came through here and ended up on the menu.
"I ran a check on him.” Cass picked up a washcloth to wipe the counter that didn't need wiping. "Nothing came up. He was top of his class. One of the youngest detectives in the city, yada yada. Clean as…"
"As this place," I suggested.
