Mr. Barnet smiled. “You catch on quick, son.”
“I’m not sure what they’ll have me doing each week, but I’ll stop in and see you even if they don’t have me working on this floor. Would that be all right?”
“Whatever. Could you hit the power on the TV on your way out?”
Mitch had been out late the night before. A couple of times a month he’d make his rounds, working his contactstrying to get information about Manuel. Where was he? What was he doing these days? He rarely garnered much useful information but needed to stay in touch and make sure his contacts didn’t forget about him. Sooner or later, someone would know something, and he needed to be available when that finally happened.
He hadn’t gotten anything concrete the night before, but he did hear a rumor that there might be an officer inside the NYPD who was helping Manuel stay one step ahead of the police. This came from a convenience store owner who overheard a conversation between two, not-so-bright men shopping for beer not too long ago.
There wasn’t anything he could follow up on immediately, but he would keep his eyes open at work. The problem was, there were so many NYPD officers, he might never find the mole.
Once he finished his hospital shift, he no longer felt like meeting up with Johnny. He was tired and morose and had used up all his good humor on the fifth floor. He thought for a second about Adam’s invitation to get a drink but dismissed the idea quickly. He already knew where he was heading, and it wasn’t the kind of place you went with a buddy to shoot the shit. It was the kind of place you went when you wanted to get drunk fast with no questions asked.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was only Thursday, but since she was taking Friday off, Maggie’s weekend was minutes away. She’d been housesitting for Jenny all week and was planning to head out to the beach house in the morning. A mini-vacation was just what she needed.
“All right, Steph, I’m headed out. Horny Harold is settled in the back. If you make sure he has food and water over the weekend, he’ll be fine.” She was trying out names for the parrot after coming to terms with the fact she would never get rid of it. Living with the foul-mouthed beast wasn’t an option, so for now, he was the store mascot. Make that the back-office mascot—no way she was letting him near any customers.
She had total confidence that Stephanie could manage everything, but added, “Call if you need anything.”
“Don’t worry, boss. We’ll be fine. Have a great weekend.”
Maggie kept her old Chevy parked at her parents’ house. When she stopped by to pick it up, her dad talked her into staying for dinner. She arrived at Jenny’s much later than she’d planned.
She hadn’t made much of a mess but still straightened theliving room, watered the flowers, and emptied the trash. Distracted by an episode ofFixer Upperon HGTV, she didn’t make it outside to the hot tub until after dark.
Grabbing a glass and a bottle of her favorite Merlot, she tuned the radio to an easy listening station and slid into heaven. In contrast to the cool, night air, the water was hot and inviting.
Two glasses in, she realized she’d eaten dinner hours ago and nothing since. The wine was going straight to her head, and she was melting into a puddle of goo. The knot on the back of her bikini top was digging into her back and driving her to distraction.
“To heck with it,” she muttered, pulling it off over her head and tossing it aside. “No one here but me. Why not?”
This wasn’t like her. Being topless and on the verge of drunk felt naughty—and she kind of liked it. Of course, that could have been the alcohol talking, but she figured one more glass couldn’t hurt and poured generously.
She had always been the good girl. Growing up, she rarely gave her parents reason for worry and was always the teacher’s pet at school. Even as an adult, she was forever reliable and sensible. She never got too drunk or too loud. She held her tongue during arguments and thought of everyone else before herself.
Those weren’t bad qualities, but lately, she’d been thinking about what it would be like to be a little less reserved, a little more assertive—especially in the sex department. That damned parrot and his dirty mouth—well, beak—had her imagining all sorts of things.
Her lunch date with the doctor had been a complete bust. He talked about himself and his medical prowess nonstop. If she ever needed a good podiatrist, she’d give him a call, otherwise, he was a big no-go.
She thought of all the pre-planned, nice, neat sex she’d had with Chase and, even at the time she was having it, wondered if she wasn’t missing out on something. Magazinecovers and the few romance novels she’d read alleged sex could be mind-blowing and heart-stopping. Not in her experience. Then again, her experience was severely limited.
As she put the almost empty glass to her lips, she heard a noise and froze. Was someone at the front door?
***
“To Jimmy.” Mitch raised his glass to no one in particular and downed what was, according to the bartender, his last drink of the night. Fuck that. He was drunk but not drunk enough. He could still see the blood. Jimmy’s blood, pouring through his fingers as he tried in vain to stop it. Until that image faded, he would keep at it.
He didn’t intend to end up at Jenny’s. He didn’t even realize he’d given the cabbie Jimmy’s address until he stood on the doorstep after staggering up the walkway. No matter. Since Jenny and the boys were out of town, he could let himself in, finish off the Jack Daniels he knew to be in the top cupboard, and then crash on the couch. No one would be the wiser.
He went to the rocking chair on the far side of the porch and fumbled around until he extracted the spare key from underneath it. After several attempts, he got the door open. Making his way to the kitchen, he noticed a suitcase in the hallway. Had Jenny forgotten something?
“Whoever you are, you’d better leave. I’ve already called the police, and they’re on their way,” slurred a female voice. Someone was outside.
On the kitchen counter, a cell phone and the cordless home phone lay side by side. He wasn’t worried. With a bottle of tequila he’d found in the kitchen cupboard that served as the liquor cabinet, he sauntered outside.
“Police are here, ma’am. How can we help?” He stopped dead in his tracks. It was Maggie, wild-eyed and apparently, naked. “Hm, what have we got here?”
