A Killing Night - By Jonathon King Page 0,50

about an hour.” I had never heard Billy whistle before and he hung up before I had a chance to ask his meaning.

I was into my second beer and was eyeing the Schnapps when she finally arrived, fashionably fifteen minutes late. She was in a long cashmere coat and scarf and wasn’t wearing a hat despite the drizzle. I had never seen her wear anything over her blonde hair unless a uniform demanded it. She opened the coat and put her shoulders back to shrug the coat off into the hands of a mildly surprised hostess. She had on a sweater and a dark skirt underneath. At least two guys at the bar subtly turned to admire the sweater.

She came over and as I started to slide off the stool she said: “Sit, Max. Let’s have a drink at the bar first.”

She positioned herself on the stool next to me and crossed her legs with that sound of nylon and surveyed the long room—bar running the length of one wall until a step up into a dining space at the very back. Small tables along the other wall. A few booths just to the left of the entrance. Dark wood, ferns and neon liquor signs throughout.

“My God, Max. The place hasn’t changed in ten years.” She smiled. “I feel like a college girl.”

Just two blocks from Jefferson Hospital, Moriarity’s was a favorite of the nursing and medical students and was mostly filled with a younger crowd.

“You never went to college, Meagan,” I said.

She smiled and her eyes stayed bright.

“I feel like a college girl,” she repeated and then ignored me for a few beats. “Get me a Merlot will you, Max?”

She waited until she’d had a taste and then asked: “So, how often do you get back, Max? Keep in touch with any guys from the old days?”

“This is actually the first time I’ve been back to the city since I left, Meg. With my mom gone, there wasn’t much reason.”

She gave me a look of sympathy and then realized it was misspent on me.

“So this inquiry about Colin O’Shea is strong enough motivation to get you here?”

I have never been one to answer questions without thinking about my response first. I was even more careful with Meagan, who had always been a verbal chess player.

“It’s a favor for a friend,” I finally said.

To her credit, she saw the answer as a blocking move and let it pass.

“And what have you come up with so far?” she said, moving right to the business at hand.

“Since both your case and the one in Florida have to do with women, I’m kind of surprised by the opinions women have of O’Shea,” I said.

“Ah, you talked to the ex?”

“Yeah.”

“Same old Max,” she said with that smarter-than-you smile. “You have to see their eyes, right? Tell if the truth is there?” I looked straight into hers.

“She doesn’t think the guy that she was married to for what, six years, was capable,” I said.

“Right. But she didn’t mind filing a domestic abuse charge against the guy to justify divorcing him so she could run off to Cherry Hill with her boyfriend the pharmaceutical salesman.”

“According to her, the abuse wasn’t physical,” I said and caught the flavor of defense in my own voice.

“No shit,” Meagan said, flatly.

“What? You don’t believe it?”

“Oh, I believe it,” she said and then turned to face me again. The look felt like an assessment. I must have passed.

“I dated him a few times, years ago, when he was trying to make SWAT.”

Maybe she thought it was a confession that was going to shock me. But even if O’Shea hadn’t already told me, I’m not sure I would have reacted. I took a drink, like it had nothing to do with me.

“He never made the team?” I said.

“Too aggressive. Not enough patience. Thought it was all gung ho shit. He was one of those who could never find the balance.”

“He ever get aggressive with you?” I said. “I mean in a personal way?”

She gave me one of those “Who, me?” looks.

“You of all people, Max,” she said. “He got pissed off once and raised a hand.”

“And?”

“I slapped him first when he hesitated.”

“And his reaction?”

“He apologized. Said he would never have actually hit me,” she said. “Like I would have let him.”

“Christ, Meg,” I said. “And now you think he’s capable of whacking some poor grocery store clerk to cover up a sex scandal out on the beat?”

One of the sweater guys nearby

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