head.”
“Oh, okay.” This guy was on another planet.
“He didn’t take his newspaper, so I don’t expect he’ll be long.”
Yuck. Talk about too much information.
“Would you like to hold?” Moran asked.
This would be a great time to get some information. “Uh, no. We can chat,” I said sweetly. “What’s going on with the case?”
He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Not too much. But we did meet one of your students from St. Thomas.”
“Oh, really? Who?”
“Julie Anne Podowsky? Know her?”
Know her? Sure do. “Uh, a little.” But I call her Miss Blurry Tattoo Ass.
“Came in on her own. Seems she and Dr. Stark were doing the horizontal mambo.”
The what? Ohhh. I played along. “Really?”
“Yep. And guess what else?”
“What?”
“She’s a fencer.”
I think I had heard that once but had forgotten that little detail. I wasn’t entirely sure what it had to do with anything, not really picturing someone hacking off someone’s hands with a long fencing sword, but Moran seemed to think it had merit. Had he noticed that she could probably crack walnuts with her thighs? That, to me, was more compelling.
When I didn’t reply, he spelled it out. “Swords?”
I tried to sound convinced. “Right!” I wondered who was going to tell him that foils and épées aren’t sharp. But he sounded elated at this new development and who was I to ruin his good mood?
“So, anyway, that’s where we are. Hey, can I put you on hold for a minute? I’ve got another call coming in.”
“Sure.” I sat chewing the skin on my thumb until Crawford came on the line, about thirty seconds later. He startled me with a gruff greeting and I tore off a thick patch of skin from around my nail, blood erupting on the surface. “Hi,” I said. “Everything come out okay?” I asked, using a joke my father used to love.
“What?” he asked.
“I hope I didn’t get you at a bad time.” I put my thumb in my mouth and attempted to stanch the flow of blood.
“It’s always a bad time when a special someone is around,” he said, sotto voce. “If you get my drift.”
I cut to the chase. “Crawford, there’s someone in that house.”
“And you would know that how?” he asked, irritation creeping into his normally calm voice.
“I went over there.” I took my thumb out of my mouth and wiped the blood onto my pajama pants. “I didn’t break in or anything. I just did a survey of the perimeter.”
“‘A survey of the perimeter’?” he asked. “Leave the crime scene talk to the professionals.”
I rolled my eyes. Will do, Detective Pissy Pants. “Do you think I should call the Dobbs Ferry police again?”
“Uh, yes,” he said, as if I were a complete moron. “I told you not to go over there, didn’t I?”
“You did, but—”
“But what?”
“You know what? Go back to work. You’re cranky and I can handle this myself.” I sucked on my bloodied thumb again. “Call me when you’re in a better mood if you want to know what happened.” I began to put the receiver back on its cradle but heard his voice calling me.
“Wait!” he said.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“I’ll come over later. I’ll bring the girls with me.”
I looked at my thumb, blood still pooling around the cuticle; this was going to hurt like a mother later. I hoped one of his kids was premed-bound because I’d be comatose from loss of blood by the time he got here. I walked over to the back door and peered out; the rain was still falling and the sun didn’t seem to want to make an appearance. All seemed quiet next door as I half listened to Crawford blather on about the schedule of events for his day. I fixed my gaze on the door of the detached garage of Jackson and Terri’s house.
“…and that’s if we don’t catch any cases,” he said.
“What?” I asked, realizing I had missed his entire monologue about a day in the life of Detective Crawford. Scintillating stuff. I focused on the window of the garage door, seeing movement behind the glass.
“I was just…”
“There’s someone in the garage,” I said.
“…and that’s if we don’t catch any cases,” he repeated. He paused. “What did you just say?”
The door to the garage began to rise slowly and I stood in the window, mesmerized by its slow and steady progress. A plume of smoke emerged from the car idling behind the half-closed door. “There’s someone in the garage.” I squinted in order to get a better