“No,” I replied honestly, “I don’t have anything to tell you.”
“Nothin’ about an appointment with an obstetrician and fillin’ a prescription for prenatal vitamins?” he prompted, his jaw hard, his eyes glittering angry.
Oh shit.
He went on, “Babe, I used protection but shit happens and I gotta know if the kid you’re carrying is mine.”
“It isn’t,” I said swiftly.
“That’s interesting since I know you haven’t been with anyone else but me.”
Oh shit.
“Well, you’re wrong, I have,” I returned.
“Hard to do when I got your ass under surveillance,” he told me and my mouth dropped open. “You’re eight weeks pregnant and I know some other guy was around a couple weeks ago but other than that, it was you, your shopping, your takeaway, your games, your crazy-assed driving that nearly killed pedestrians every time you got behind the f**kin’ wheel… and me.”
“You had me under surveillance?” I whispered.
“Clue in, Cora, I’m a cop. Jesus, f**k, are you that dumb?” he asked. “Christ, you found my f**kin’ badge, looked right at it, held it in your hand for f**k’s sake, lookin’ at it like you’d never seen anything like that in your life. I was comin’ out of the bathroom and I saw you. You put it right back where you found it, diggin’ through my clothes, I might add, and after, you didn’t change a thing. We were together for weeks after that and you didn’t change one f**kin’ thing. Freaked me out, didn’t know your game, didn’t expect to be at your place with my badge but you jumped me and I had no choice but to roll with it. And in the end it worked for me. No offense, babe, but you aren’t too bright unless you’re countin’ cards so I figured, what the f**k?”
Oh boy. Cora would do that because she’d actually never seen anything like a badge in her life.
My back went straight and I informed him. “I know you’re a cop.”
He jerked his chin up and his eyes went hard. “So, you actually aren’t too bright and thought you were playin’ me,” he decided then leaned in, his face carved from stone. “Advice. You gotta get better at the game.” I stared at him and he went on, “Like, say, that kiss you gave me before you booted my ass out or, better, the one you just gave me. That’s bein’ better at the game.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Doesn’t this interfere with your investigation?”
“I brought down the games a week ago, babe. My guess is, you sensed that shit was goin’ down since you packed my stuff and stopped goin’ to the games. I thought you were history and, sorry to say, I wasn’t too broken up about it. That was until continued surveillance on you gave me the info you were goin’ to an OB/GYN and gettin’ pregnancy vitamins. Unfortunately that meant I had to come back.”
“Why were you continuing to watch me?”
“Because you like the game, Cora, you like the money, you like the clothes and shoes and all that shit.” He threw an arm out toward my bedroom. “You like it better, thinkin’ you’re f**kin’ someone over, counting cards. You get off on it. In fact, I reckon it’s the only thing you get off on. You got off on it so much, you didn’t even care you were f**kin’ a cop. You led me to one racket; it’s in your blood, you need your fix, need it so much you made me and, still, you didn’t stop so I knew you’d find another game so we stayed on you.”
Oh. That made sense. It was annoying but it made sense.
Then a thought hit me. “Is it normal operating procedure to sleep with people you’re investigating?”
He crossed his arms on his chest and his eyes moved the length of me from top-to-toe and back again. “Babe, you were all over me. You’re hot. I thought it would be hot. It was not. But it went that way, you thought you had me by the balls and I had to go the way it went.”
“That’s not very nice,” I whispered, stung, though I didn’t know why since he wasn’t talking about me and his eyes narrowed as his head tipped to the side.
“Not very nice?” he asked back, his voice soft.
“To talk that way,” I explained, “about, um… me.”
He stared at me through narrowed eyes then he leaned back an inch. “Well, f**k me,” he murmured. “She’s got feelings under all that ice.”
“No,” I whispered, “she doesn’t, but I do.”
His head jerked then he asked, “Come again?”
I stared at him. Then it came to me.
I had a previous address and a first name, Clarabelle.
And he was a cop and cops had access to databases that had all sorts of information.