“I’ll light a candle for you tonight,” she says as I take my bag. “To guide you to the one responsible for Josh’s…for his…” Her eyes fill with tears. “He was like a son to me, you know.”
“I’ll find the murderer.” I keep my voice low so no one else hears me. “I always do.”
The wind chimes sound behind me, and two women step in. They’re talking, and one of the voices sounds familiar.
“Ace?” Gemma exclaims, eyes going wide. “You’re…you’re…here. You’re here,” she repeats, staring at me as if I’m a ghost.
“Yeah. I had to pick up some things.”
The older woman standing next to Gemma looks just as shocked. “You’re Ace? The detective?”
“I see you’ve heard of me,” I say, turning my gaze back to Gemma. She grips her purse tight and hasn’t moved an inch since she saw me.
“Yeah, I, uh, I…I told her how you stopped that…that guy who stole my purse,” Gemma mumbles, tripping over her words. The older woman grabs Gemma’s arm, gripping tight.
“Excuse us,” she says, and turns Gemma away. Raising an eyebrow, I shake my head and go out the door. I don’t have time to stand around talking, anyway.
“Ace, wait!” Gemma calls after me, bursting out the door. I stop and turn.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
She points to my face. “You have scratches, and you look like you haven’t slept.”
“Oh, right.” I bring my hand up, feeling the cuts on my cheek. “Some people resist arrest,” I say. “And I don’t sleep much while working on a case.”
“I can only imagine. So…do you want to get coffee or something? I know I can use a cup. Or two. I worked the nightshift last night. My treat.”
Usually, the thought of sitting and talking with anyone is the last thing I want to do. But right now, company actually sounds nice.
“Sure.”
“Really?” She blinks and rapidly shakes her head. “I mean, great.” She motions to the cafe across the street. “Shall we?”
I roll the top of the paper bag down and fall into step with Gemma, going to the crosswalk.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asks. “I don’t mean to pry, but you have this look in your eye that makes me think you broke up with a boy last night or something.”
“No breakups here.”
“But it is about a boy.”
“It might be.” The light changes and we cross the street.
“I have a very goodI hate menspeech ready if you need it. Guys can be such assholes.”
“This one isn’t an asshole,” I say, and while I’m not telling the truth entirely, it feels good to talk about this. I’ve never had a close girlfriend to spill my guts to. I used to act like I didn’t see the appeal of having a close female friend, but really, I was keeping the idea at bay so I wouldn’t feel like I was missing out.
“But he did something stupid?”
“Yeah. Something really stupid.”
“What’d he do?”
I open the cafe door. “I can’t tell you. It has to do with work.”
