He looks straight ahead after transferring the goods. Just two murderers smoking in the back alley of a club they’re too old to hang out in. One of them won’t live to see the next month. Normal stuff.
“Haven’t seen you here before, and now you’re here twice in one week.” He sounds like he’s doing some mental math.
I put an immediate end to it. “Saw a client hanging out with his teenage girlfriend in the last place I liked to party. Can’t go there again,” I sigh.
He nods, still not looking at me. Just as well, I can’t trust my expressions today. “That’d turn me off from a place, too,” he agrees.
“Yeah, he’d definitely change clinics if he caught me. No one wants a high vet for their pets, and his wife brings in the cat more than he does, so you know, bad decision all around.”
“Hey, I don’t mind the business. See you, Elliot,” he says, crushing his cigarette and sauntering back to the club.
I stand there for a few more minutes before following Drew in to mark my presence. When I spot Drew sitting in one of the booths with three women, I realize I need to add more color tothisElliot persona.
I walk straight to the men’s room and flush the drugs. Then I hit the dance floor and let myself go. This Elliot likes to show off, to entice, and flirt. I move my hips to the beats and close my eyes. I feel the music flowing through my body when two pairs of hands grab my waist.
A woman grinds against me in the front, and a man joins in at the back. His hands move from my neck to my chest. I blanch at the contact, which is ridiculous because he’s not bad to look at, at least from my periphery. I decide this Elliot is aggressively straight, and move away from the man, andlean into the woman.
She turns around and presses back into me, urging me on. Then the song changes to a fast one, and her two girlfriends join us. We dance to the music I’m too old to understand for over an hour before I see Drew slipping out with his company.
I stay for another twenty minutes before I slink out, ignoring the groans and calls of my new best friends, as they had declared an hour ago.
On the drive back, I update Sam on everything, except the new friends part. The guy will go back to writing sad poetry if he knew how many sacrifices I made for these missions.
When I told Sam this case would be easier than expected, I meant it. Because even with my hundred percent success rate, I’ve had to work hard to earn people's trust. And this one seems easy. Too easy.
Maybe a big factor is that I have a genuine excuse to talk to the killer this time, unlike other cases where I had to make up a lot of excuses to keep running into them until they were convinced I could be trusted. Approaching Drew for drugs doesn’t need much explanation. Any doubts can be easily explained away, like I did today.
It makes sense. It’s logical.
Then why do I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop?
Chapter Eleven
Bad Habits, Bold Dog-Nappings and Breakthrough Discoveries
Nick
I have so much work. We just solved a robbery case, and the report is due tomorrow. Then there’s the murder case that’s still up in the air. The serial killer is still walking free, killing werewolves around town. I have lost count of the reports I need to fill out. Even with the delegating thing Meena’s making me do, I’m drowning in work. Especially now that I’m trying to embrace the life of a dog dad and spend time at home so my baby doesn’t feel abandoned.
Then why am I parked outside Elliot’s clinic, staring at the closed door?
He's been staying late every day this week because, unlike some careless detectives, he does take his work seriously.
Then there’s the whole thing about the text he still hasn’t responded to. While I have no qualms about double texting, I’m worried it’ll annoy Elliot. The guy does not like meaningless chitter chatter.
Like the text you sent was a thought-provoking intellectual piece, my brain helpfully snides. It sounds suspiciously like Elliot.
So what if I panicked a little and sent him the first thing that came to mind? It was a nice callback to our conversationthe other night. Not to mention, it was a moderately good way to make him slip again. You know, theentirereason why I was talking to him in the first place? That is, if he deemed it worthy of picking up his phone and typing out a response in the first place.
He clearly didn’t. Because here I am, sitting in my car three days later with no reply. It was brutal, like everything Elliot does. I was so secure in the idea that the date wasn’t too horrible and that I could ask for another whenever I wanted, that I forgot this wasElliot.
I’m generally a little cocky about my ability to charm anyone. But Elliot makes me feel like a child with his first crush. I was completely off my game that day, and the things that might have landed with other people, mostly women, because that’s all the reference point I have, failed miserably with Elliot.
Is it because he’s a guy? Can’t be. I have so many dude friends who love hanging out with me. I have a gay brother. His boyfriend is gay too, and he has specifically said that I’m pretty charming a couple of times. Mostly when he was being snide to Matt or complaining about Matt’s grumpiness, but I’ll still count it.
I can impress men, too. It’s just the special Elliot effect that makes me desperate to impress him with all I’ve got, which ultimately turns me into a moron. I’m interesting, funny, and a catch,damnit. And I deserve replies to texts.
My phone buzzes. I snatch it up, almost dropping it in the process. It’s not a text. Just a call from Matt.
