was Peter Miceli or one of his men?”
“Oh, Miceli doesn’t get his hands dirty anymore. Got to be one of his foot soldiers. Someone who’s trying to get ‘made.’” He gave me a knowing look. “Let’s just say your ex was a little indiscreet and that did not serve him well.”
I gave him a knowing look back. “Gotcha.”
He kept going. “And, having a pregnant daughter who’s still technically a teenager would make the most sensible father crazy.”
So they did know. This was like taking candy from a baby. “I agree. So, will you keep working it until you locate the Miceli henchman or will it close?”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “This guy is in the weeds, so unless we can come up with something, that’s a dead end.”
That was unfortunate, but I wasn’t surprised. I figured it was harder to locate a professional killer than someone who killed in a fit of passion or by accident. “So, my neighbors really aren’t suspects?”
Moran laughed, a throaty chortle. “Nah. They never were. Crawford had focused on them for a while, but I told him he was wasting his time. Concannon is sick of using man hours for the case because he doesn’t think we’ll find the Miceli who did it.”
“What about the other women that Ray had relationships with?”
He laughed. “We’re still working through that list.” The way he said it let me know that list was using up the most manpower.
He paused and shook his head. “Crawford’s still working the Miceli angle. Hard. Man, he’s thick,” he said, pointing to his head with one finger. “Once he makes his mind up…oh, hey, Crawford!” he said.
I turned to see Crawford ambling down the steps from the squad room upstairs. There was a little hitch in his step when he realized that I had been talking to Moran and his mouth turned down into a frown. “Alison.” His greeting was flat, not that I really expected him to feel me up in the lobby of the precinct. In that split second, I imagined that he knew all about my second date with Jack, even though intellectually, I knew that couldn’t be true. I tried not to look too guilty as he approached and I flashed my best smile at him. I was happy that I had worn my slutty pumps and a skirt that fell just above my knees for him. Moran had noticed, but it didn’t look like Crawford did; he focused on his colleague. “Moran. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Moran moved off; he wasn’t that clueless. Crawford looked like he was going to wipe up the floor with him.
Crawford said hello to Gorman and then turned to me. “You weren’t doing what I think you were doing, were you?”
I smiled innocently. “Just a chat with a new friend,” I said.
He threw a look in the direction of Gorman who had busied herself counting paper clips. “She heard the whole thing.” He took my elbow and steered me out of the precinct. We stood on the street, him staring down at me with a hard look on his face. “Is it that you think we’re not doing enough to close this case?” he asked.
Aha, so that was the problem. It was less about me poking around for information and more about him wondering if he was letting me down. I decided to ignore his question and throw the blame back on him. I shook my arm free from his hand. “Listen. I came here to take you to lunch, but you’re obviously in a pissy mood.” I turned and started to walk toward my car, trying to put as much righteous indignation into my gait as I could. However you do that without killing yourself on a cracked sidewalk in heels.
He stood outside the precinct, watching me, until it was clear that I wasn’t fooling around. When I beeped the key tag to unlock the car, he called out, “You’re parked in a ‘cruiser-only’ spot.”
I smiled, in spite of myself and my righteous indignation. I looked around and, indeed, every car there was a blue and white NYPD cruiser. And the sign right in front of my car indicated that parking where I did would end up with my car being impounded. “You told me the guys at work called you by your first name. Gorman clearly called you ‘Crawford.’ You lied to me.” I turned and faced him.
“Apparently ‘Hot Pants’ is my new name.” He glared