“About average. No one died, and two elected to go to rehab after they left the ER. That’s not the norm. Usually we get a death and no one opting for rehab.”
“Repeats?”
Sullivan held up an index finger. “Just the one. Second overdose in six weeks. Borrowed time, no doubt.” He speared two gnocchi and ate them with obvious enjoyment. “How is your manicotti?”
“Best ever.”
He nodded, set his fork down, and picked up his wine glass. “Was Paul right?” he asked.
“Right about what?”
“Right about you spending more time in home improvement chatting up Mason Calabash?”
Frowning, Ramsey swallowed her bite before she answered. “Where did that come from?”
“Humor me.”
She shrugged, raised her water glass and sipped. “You heard me explain that Paul’s math is suspect, but he’s not wrong that I’ve been hovering in the area more than usual. Not that I told him that.” She set her glass down. “As for chatting up Mason. He’s friendly. I’m friendly. Well, some of the time I’m friendly. It just happens that he and I work similar shifts so it’s natural that we would chat.”
“Are you following any shoplifters into that area?”
“No. Even shoplifters don’t linger in home improvement.”
“Suspicious activity?”
“No, not suspicious. Well, maybe a little. Bizarre, for sure. Are you going somewhere with this? Thinking of switching allegiances from light bulbs to paints?”
“Hah. Funny. Light bulbs are fascinating. You’ve got your LEDs. Your incandescents and your fluorescents. Soft white. Daylight. Nightlights. Watts. Lumens. Then there’s dimmable and—”
“If I stab myself in the eye with this fork, will you stop?” She waggled the fork at him. A droplet of red sauce fell on her plate. “If I stab you, will you answer my question?”
Sullivan did not respond immediately, weighing the consequences of sharing his thoughts with her. He hadn’t even run what he was thinking past the chief or any of his colleagues. He needed to know more. Coincidence was not evidence.
“All right,” he said finally. “But there’s a condition.”
Ramsey leaned toward him and whispered, “Jeez, Sullivan, I’m going to sleep with you again.”
He blinked. “Good to know, but that wasn’t the condition.”
“Oh. Well, okay.”
“Confidence is the condition. You don’t repeat what I say and you don’t involve yourself in it.”
“That’s two conditions, but all right.”
“Two parts of the whole.”
“You’re stalling. Spill.”
Sullivan took another bite of gnocchi and then pushed his plate back. “You recall that overdose death that I told you about when we had breakfast at Eat’n Park?”
“The mom with the baby? Yes, I remember.”
“Well, she and her boyfriend, partner, handyman, whoever he was to her, were doing a kitchen touchup earlier in the evening. My best guess at the time was that they took a break to party.”
“Kitchen touchup?” asked Ramsey. “Caribbean Coast?”
“Uh-huh.”
