Sleeping bones, p.24
Sleeping Bones, page 24
“The feds? What the hell for?”
“You’re looking this gift horse in the mouth?”
“No, Lieutenant, I don’t understand—”
“Even though the fossil found at the La Brea Tar Pits has been deemed a fake—”
“What? It has?”
“Detective, interrupting people is not a desirable quality in a homicide detective. It has. The so-called fossil in our evidence locker has been examined by CIA experts. Apparently some officials in Beijing have a few questions. So the case is gone, Detective. I want all your reports, I need all your notes, any other pertinent scrap of paper you and Detective Delafield might have. I need it before you leave tonight.”
“Jesus,” Cameron muttered.
“Consider it done,” Kate said.
Walcott glanced at her, and Kate shared with her the barest instant of communication, of complicity.
“My very first case, gone,” groaned Cameron.
“I’ve looked over the reports. You did good work,” Walcott said.
“And you still have perfect stats,” Kate reminded him.
“True,” Cameron said in a brighter tone.
“So get busy,” Walcott said briskly. “One more thing—I have this feeling about the two of you…I think you may make interesting partners.”
So do I, Kate thought.
Walcott caught Kate’s eye and spoke as if she had read Kate’s mind: “Try not to be too interesting.”
* * *
Just before midnight, Kate let herself into the darkened condo, switching on a lamp and wearily calling, “I’m home.” She went into the kitchen.
Aimee hurriedly joined her, pulling a robe around her nakedness, smoothing her disheveled hair. “How come you didn’t call?”
“Couldn’t” Kate said. “Then it got to be so late—”
“Dickhead Charlie’s left town,” Aimee said excitedly, her face elated. “Marcie got a call from somewhere in the desert, it was him claiming somebody mistook his car to stash a bag of heroin, he’s in big trouble, he sounded really scared.”
“Did he? That’s good,” Kate said. She dumped ice cubes into a glass. “That’s very good.”
“It’s so late—come to bed.”
“I will in a minute,” Kate said and filled the glass with scotch. “Right now I need this, sweetheart. Like medicine.”
“Kate—honey, whatever you did to make Charlie hightail it out of town—”
“What you don’t know is better for me, okay?”
“Okay,” Aimee said in a deflated tone.
“Sweetheart, will you keep me company?”
“Sure. I’ll heat up some coffee in the microwave.”
Kate dropped into her armchair in the living room. Miss Marple padded delicately in from the bedroom, tossed a green-eyed glance at Kate, then yawned, stretching her front paws straight out, her back arched and quivering; she trotted to Kate and leaped into her lap.
“Hello, sweetie pie,” Kate whispered, scratching under her chin. Miss Marple purred, and Kate rested her hand on the cat’s soft fur, comforted by the sound and the cat’s want of simple contact. Kate took a mouthful of scotch and savored its sweet sharp burn all the way down her throat.
Aimee came into the room, coffee mug in hand, and perched on the edge of the sofa. “So tell me what’s going on.”
Kate took another deep swallow of scotch. “Nothing much to tell,” she said. Except, she thought, for risking our relationship and my career in a passionate embrace with a female murder suspect in a public place, except for deceiving my new partner, except for denying your existence to my brother, except for betraying my oath as a police officer, except for aiding and abetting a government cover-up.
“Your murder case,” Aimee prodded, “the guy who got it at La Brea. What was that about?”
“Well,” Kate said, “it turns out he took a prehistoric fossil from a foreign country. The prime suspect ate the piece of paper that was the key piece of evidence, the feds got involved and took over the case, and now it’s an international cover-up.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Aimee said disgustedly. “You and your secrets. This wouldn’t even make a decent episode of the X-Files.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Kate said. “Honey, I’m just really bushed.”
“That’s what you said last night, and look what happened,” Aimee said impishly. “If you put that drink down, get that cat off your lap, and come to bed, I have something special in mind to thank you for what you did for Marcie.”
Kate put down the scotch, gave Miss Marple’s fur a last stroking, then gently lowered her to the carpet. “It’s a deal,” she said.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Other Books by Katherine V. Forrest
Acknowledgments
Author's Note
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Spinsters Ink
Katherine V. Forrest, Sleeping Bones
