last conversation had held the most disturbing news of all: Franco had gone missing, and when Crawford had called the FBI to get contact information on him, they professed to never have heard of him. That gave me pause. Either he was under such deep cover that that was the FBI’s story—a theory Crawford leaned toward, given the fact that he had spent a few months undercover in narcotics and knew a bit about these things—or Franco was a member of another “family” and had been hired to take out Gianna, or a combination of both, an FBI informant and member of the “family.” I tried, along with everything else I knew, to put the fact that he was missing in my own brain’s deep cover.
I had also talked to Bea two times; nothing brings you closer together than being kidnapped and having your life threatened. We decided to get together for lunch in a couple of weeks to get to know each other outside of a threatening situation.
I was surprised when Crawford stopped by my office unexpectedly on a Friday afternoon. He had just gotten off work and was hoping to catch me before I left.
“Hey, handsome,” I said, standing up behind my desk.
He leaned over the piece of furniture separating us and gave me a peck on the cheek. “I was thinking.”
“Always trouble,” I remarked, shoving some papers into my briefcase.
He smirked. “If you’re not doing anything tonight, do you want to come over to my place? I’d like to make you dinner.”
I walked around my desk and closed my door, putting some space between the two of us and Dottie’s prying eyes and ears. I lowered my voice. “Let’s call a spade a spade. We both know what we’re talking about here. A pizza, a bottle of cheap red wine, and sex. No interruptions. How does that sound?” I asked him, slipping my finger into the waistband of his pants and pulling him close.
He sighed. “Can we at least have the illusion of romance here?” He looked at a spot over my head. “Does everything have to be so cut-and-dried with you?”
I smiled, holding my hands up as if to say “you knew what you were getting yourself into.”
“Fine. Have it your way,” he said and shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’ll do it your way: come to my place. Seven o’clock. Leave your underwear at home.”
“Now you’re talking.” I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Did you leave your handcuffs at work?”
He flushed a deep red. “Nope. They’re in the car.”
I kissed him. “Good. Make sure you bring them inside.”
He pulled away from me. “Great,” he said, exasperated. “Now I can’t leave.” He looked down at his belt buckle, his zipper lying not quite as flat as when he had arrived. “Talk about James Joyce or something so I don’t feel quite so”—he searched for the right word—“happy.”
I laughed. “Get going. I’m going to go home and pack some things, call Bagpipe Kid, and I’ll meet you in a couple of hours.”
“What do you want for dinner?” he asked.
“Pizza, cheap red wine, and sex. I thought we covered that.”
He smiled. “I couldn’t remember if it was cheap sex, pizza, and red wine. Thanks for putting the adjectives in the proper order. You got it.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you in what? Two, three hours?”
“Two if I don’t shave my legs,” I said.
“Don’t bother,” he said. “I spend all of my time with Fred. Anything less than the ‘missing link’ look will be an improvement.”
We both left the office and I bid Dottie good-bye. She gave me a sideways glance, which made me think she had heard our whole conversation. Did she have the entire office area bugged? She knew more about what was going on in the department than anyone.
He walked me to my car and we parted ways. I was past being nervous about consummating this relationship; it had been way too long in coming, so to speak. I raced home and set about taking care of everything that needed attention before I spent the night away from home.
Trixie greeted me with her usual butt sniff to welcome me home. I checked her dishes and saw that she had been fed by Bagpipe Kid and had fresh water. “God bless you, Bagpipe Kid!” I proclaimed and reached for the phone. I dialed his number; his mother answered after a few rings. “Hi, this is Alison across the street. Is