avocado I had found along with a plate of cheese and crackers. I was a little catatonic myself. I figured I deserved a quiet night after everything that had happened. And more than one martini.
I hadn’t called Crawford; there hadn’t been time. I was also sure that the DFPD would let the NYPD know about a second murder where the victim was missing their hands and feet. I didn’t expect to hear from Crawford because I knew that he was with his girls and nothing disturbed him when he was spending time with them. However, we hadn’t parted in the warmest way on our last phone call so I kind of expected a quick call to let me know that everything was copacetic between us.
Whenever we did speak, I’d have a lot to tell him. Crawford didn’t know about my meeting with Peter because our phone call had taken place when he was in medias Dumpster. I knew that if I told him about Peter in the diner, he would go off the deep end more so than when I finally got around to telling him that Terri was dead. He wouldn’t have a lot to do with that case, necessarily, unless her hands and feet, like Ray’s, were found in his jurisdiction. But me kissing Peter Miceli? In his world, that would be an international incident in magnitude.
The phone rang. Although I expected to hear Crawford’s voice, it was Jack McManus. If I had thought that the day couldn’t get any more complicated, I was wrong.
“Jack, hi,” I said, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. He wasn’t the last person I expected to hear from, but close. Sister Calista was probably the last person I expected to hear from.
“Hi, Alison. I’ve been thinking about you.”
Well, well.
“Kevin tells me you’ve been kind of busy.”
That’s for sure. “He’s right about that,” I agreed.
“How are you doing?”
Good question. “I guess I’m all right.” I took a sip of my drink so as not to go into the sordid details of my diner meal and my evening with the Dobbs Ferry police. I would fill Kevin in when I saw him and leave him to spread the word about my latest brush with murder and mayhem.
“Have you been getting your garbage out on time?” he asked.
Oh, yeah. I had responded to his romantic overtures on our last date by running off to take out the garbage.
“Any chance I could take you to dinner in the next couple of weeks?” He laughed. “I’m guessing that by now you’ve discovered that ‘killier’ isn’t a word.”
Oh, silly Jack. Don’t you know about my boyfriend, his wife, and our torrid, sexless affair? I thought. After all, your brother is Father Kevin, spiritual adviser and master gossip. But I said, “Oh, Jack, I wish I could, but I’m kind of with that guy that we talked about.”
“And that guy doesn’t let you have dinner with a friend?” he asked.
He was smooth. Oh, he would let me, all right, and then torture me about it for the next fifty years. Some things just aren’t worth the agony. Like Wonderbras. And massive amounts of artichoke dip (long story). Instead of giving him my dissertation on sore breasts and flatulence, I tried to laugh it off. “Thanks, Jack, but I think I’ll have to take a pass.”
He tried a different tack. “The Rangers are playing the Flyers next week. We can sit in the good seats again.”
Geez, why did he have to go there? The Rangers-Flyers rivalry was one of the best in the NHL and one of my favorite games to watch during the season. I was exhausted and I didn’t have the energy to run the romantic gauntlet that was Jack McManus and his spectacularly white teeth. “As tempting as that is—”
“Listen, Alison. I have a great time when I’m with you. I like you. I don’t get to meet too many women in my line of work.”
Right. You work with a bunch of professional athletes, all of whom are known for their inability to meet women and their allegiance to their “he-man-women-haters” club code of ethics. “Thanks, Jack. I had a great time with you, too. And under different circumstances, this would be great. But right now, I’m involved.”
He gave it one last shot. “Messier is coming to town next week.”
My inner monologist began to speak, but I told her to shut up. “Jack, I wish I could, but I can’t.”
He sounded disappointed. Who could