he’d been in a bad fight.
“Oh, man, it’s great! Dig in!” He threw back a couple of nuggets of batter-dipped okra and shoveled in a spoonful of rice after that.
I eyed the spread dubiously. “You just pick them up? No forks? Hey, look at the ends of the ribs! You can see that they were sawn! You know, by looking at the way the bones were cut, you can tell a lot about the ethnic tradition the chef is following, or what was available to him locally. Now if they were snapped off the ribcage, or cut with a knife, you’d see a much more jagged edge—”
Again came that pitying look, mixed with exasperation. “Em. God almighty. Grab one. Start gnawing.”
I started in, tentatively at first, but rapidly becoming obsessed about scraping more of the tender meat off the bones. The smoky tang, the crunch of the cooked fat, and the morsels of sweet pork, were more than enough to convince me. “Whoa, Bri—”
“See what I mean?” he asked, tossing another cleaned gray-white bone on the heap. “It pays to chuck the Emily Post every now and then.”
“Easy for you to say.” I sucked the meat off another rib. “You don’t do anything, you eat everything in sight, you never gain an ounce. I, on the other hand…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He eyed my plate and the ribs that I hadn’t got to yet. “So, are you going to finish those?”
“Take a hike!” I pulled my plate protectively closer.
“Spoken like a convert!” He signaled the waiter for another round of drinks.
But even after some truly dedicated eating on my part, Brian had to help me clean up the last two. “You got another Wet-Nap?” I held my sticky fingers up.
A voice came from over my shoulder. “I’ve heard some interesting things about you, Ms. Fielding, but nothing to suggest the way you can put away the barbecue.”
I looked up to see Pam Kobrinski, still flushed from dancing, standing over our table. Her date loitered impatiently by the door with their coats, checking his watch in an obvious way. I wiped my hands off on my jeans as best I could, trying to decide if I was supposed to invite her to join us.
“Look, I don’t usually do business when I’m off, and I generally come way out here because I’m not likely to run into anyone I know.” She smiled wryly. “But since we’re both here, could you meet me Monday morning? For breakfast, maybe? We should talk.”
I groaned. “I’m never going to eat again!”
Kobrinski looked at Brian, who shrugged. “Neophyte,” he explained. “She doesn’t know she’ll be craving another pile in an hour.”
The detective sergeant took out a card and wrote on the back of it. “Not at the station. Meet me at Nancy’s Breakfast Nook. It’s right on Main Street in Monroe, about seven?”
I groaned again, but she turned to leave, saying, “Have a nice weekend,” before I could suggest a later time, even lunch.
“You know her?” Brian asked, watching her don her coat.
“She’s the cop investigating Faith’s death.” Saying it out loud cast a shadow over a fairly promising evening. “Damn.”
But apparently, Brian didn’t notice. “She doesn’t dance like a cop,” he said admiringly.
That woke me up out of my funk. “Hey! What are you doing, watching other women dance?”
“Just looking at the scenery, porkchop. Unless, of course, you wanted to—”
“I’m just waiting for you to ask!”
“Ah, here we go,” he said, leading me out onto the floor, where the band was playing a slow waltz instrumental. “Now, isn’t this nicer than La Vache Qui Pede, or wherever it is you wanted to go? I couldn’t step all over your toes there, could I?”
But if there was anyone stepping on toes, it was me. My mind just wasn’t on my feet, it was on my chance meeting with Detective Kobrinski. “Yeah. You know, I’ve been worrying over whether Faith was murdered and never stopped to think of a motive.”
Brian pulled me even closer and murmured into my ear, “Oooh, my darlin’, zat’s why I love you sooo; you feed ozair women drinks and bar-bay-que, take zem danzeeng, and what do they sink of? Ze sex! Le monkey lust hot! And zat’s it! But you, you speak to me in ze dulcet tones of murdair, ze mayhem.” He led me into a slow twirl, returning back to our close embrace, rubbing his cheek against mine. “Ahh, what man could ask for more?”
I kissed him, snuggled into his shoulder. “Sorry.