Between Cass and I, we took out the rest of the cups.
The man who’d sat beside Getzoff slipped out while I spoke to Archer, leaving an eclectic group alone in the restaurant.
"Isn't this interesting?" Getzoff adjusted his tie and sat back in his chair.
"Is it?" Boner asked. "That's great. I love when things are interesting." He propped his elbow on the chair beside him and leaned over like he didn't have a care in the world. "Harlow tells us you think there's a serial killer in the area."
Thank goodness I hadn't taken a sip of coffee. I would have spat it out across the table. As it was, I coughed, choking on air.
"Did I say that?" Getzoff asked, looking around the table like we were all as suspicious as fuck. Which was accurate, but I didn'tthinkhe knew that. Not yet.
"You didn't deny it," I said. "Boner owns a gallery nearby. He has a vested interest in the safety of his clients."
"And my own ass," Boner said. "Which I am quite attached to, thank you very much. Meanwhile, isn't it the job of the police to warn us of shit like that?"
"It can be," Getzoff said carefully. "Sometimes the circumstances aren't that simple. For example, if we were to let everyone know what we were looking for, the perpetrator might go underground."
"Literal underground or figuratively?" Boner leaned forward to ask.
"Both," Getzoff said.
"Huh. That sounds like fun." Boner grinned. "I've been down in the subway tunnels a time or two myself. Can't say I've seen any serial killers in there, though." He scratched his head as though thinking about it.
"How would you know if you saw a serial killer?" Cass asked him.
"Well, they all look the part, don't they?" Boner asked, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Don't they look like Hannibal Lecter, and drink Chianti?"
I suppressed a grimace. I didn't drink Chianti or eat fava beans. Nor did I look like Anthony Hopkins. Or Ted Bundy for that matter.
Although I wouldn't lump myself in with Hannibal Lecter or Bundy. One was fictional and the other killed for the fun of it. Not with purpose. There was nothing noble about what he did. Nothing redeemable.
"On the contrary," Getzoff said. "Serial killers look like average people. They could look like anyone at this table."
"Including you," Boner suggested, turning the veiled accusation back on Getzoff.
"Including me," Getzoff agreed. "But I'm not a serial killer. I'm someone who catches them."
"Oh?" Boner asked, dragging the word out. "How many have you caught?"
Getzoff glared at him, like he was annoyed at being called out.
"I’ve uncovered the identities of multiple criminals," Getzoff said. "I’m going to find out who's behind the killings in the area."
"So you admit there's a serial killer in the area," Boner said. "What are we looking for here? Someone who offers candy for their victims to get into the back of a car? Wait, no, let me guess. Someone who dresses as Santa and lures people with the promise of presents. I might even be fooled by that one. I mean, who's going to think he's a bad guy?"
"Santa is creepy," Archer said. "When I was a kid, I refused to sit on his lap."
Boner pointed at him. "Those are good instincts, Harden. That wasn't actually Santa, it was a dude in a Santa suit. Possibly a woman. Maybe a non-binary Santa." He seemed to like that idea.
"Anyone who works with children is carefully vetted," Getzoff said, his voice tight with barely restrained agitation.
"Yeah, yeah." Boner flapped his hand like that was a minor detail.
"Hardwick," Archer interjected belatedly.
"So what are we looking for?" Boner asked. "I’d really like to avoid them if possible. How will we know what to avoid if we don't know anything about this person?"
"I’m not at liberty to discuss details of the case," Getzoff said. "My advice: be careful and don't walk around outside alone."
