New Tricks - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,42

she’d say. “You’re not ready for that, Laurie. You must know that.”

She nods. “I do. But I have this need to get back to real life.”

“Living here is fake life?”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Andy, this is coming out wrong. I love it here, and I love being with you. I just can’t stand being helpless like this. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”

“Laurie, it feels like yesterday that you were in a coma, and you were… fighting for your life.” My voice catches on these last few words; just the thought of that first night in the hospital is enough to reduce me to a sniveling, unmanly wreck. “You’re doing great.”

“I know. I’m just impatient.”

“So how can I make you less impatient?”

“Maybe you can let me help you with the case. I can read through the files, maybe come up with some ideas. It will give me something to think about, and there’s a chance I can contribute something.”

This is an easy one for me; Laurie is as good an investigator as I’ve ever been around, and it can’t do anything but help to have a mind like hers on our side. “Absolutely. That’s a great idea.”

“I know I can’t come down to the office yet, but—”

“You don’t have to. We’ll bring the office here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kevin and Edna would be fine working here instead of the office. It’s no hardship at all. And that way you can sit in on meetings and be a part of things.”

“Andy, please tell me if I’m being childish.”

“Not at all,” I say. “It’s a great idea.” And in fact it is. “Now, what else can I do?”

“You can hold me.”

Since Waggy and Tara are still on each side of her, that is going to be difficult. “You seem to be surrounded,” I say.

“Not now. Tonight. In bed. I want you to hold me all night.”

“You’re asking a lot, you know.”

She smiles. “I realize that. And I wouldn’t blame you if you refused.”

“This is not going to turn into an every-night thing, is it?”

“No, I promise,” she says. “Tomorrow night I’ll find someone else to hold me.”

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll try it with me for a year, and see how it goes.”

She smiles again. “I think it will go fine.”

Me too.

THE HAMILTON HOTEL is on Hudson Street in New York City.

At the moment it is considered the hippest part of the entire city, and I am aware of that because I know people, who know people, who know people, who are hip.

This is actually known as the Meatpacking District, because for years it has been the city’s center of wholesale meats. Mind-bogglingly, the meatpacking business is still thriving, even though hipness is springing up all around it. The area is now filled with expensive hotels and boutiques in addition to less expensive lamb chops and veal shanks.

Only in New York.

In front of the Hamilton are velvet rope lines, and even though it is only three in the afternoon, they are preparing for the influx of people who will try to get into their rooftop bar tonight. I am told that people will regularly stand out here for hours in the hope, often vain, that they will get past the bouncers and gain admission.

Like everything else about the hip world that I’ve never inhabited, it makes no sense to me. There are half a billion bars in New York City that you can just walk into and order a drink. They’re more ubiquitous than pizzerias. What could prompt a person to wait hours, and risk rejection, in order to get into this one? And the drinks are probably priced like used cars. So why do people come here? How good could their vodka be?

I enter through the revolving door and walk the fifty feet or so to the concierge desk. On the way there, three employees wish me a good afternoon. They obviously care about me a lot.

I have found that expensive hotels in New York either are very modern or look like they were furnished during the Revolutionary War. This one is modern, and the entire lobby is done in black, white, and chrome. The floor is white with diagonal chrome stripes, and the only carpeting is a few small area rugs in the seating areas. I guess if they raise their room rates to nine hundred a night, they’ll be able to afford wall-to-wall.

I know my bias is showing, but I hate hotels like this. The rooms are

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