The peel slid off, easy as a stripper’s breakaway. Once she’d sliced it, she handed him back the rest of the bulb and the knife. “Got it?”
“Yeah.” More or less. “We had a cook. When I was growing up, we always had a cook.”
“Never too late to learn. You might even like it.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. But I ought to be able to follow a recipe for morons.”
“I have every faith.”
He mimicked her slicing procedure, and felt marginally more hopeful when he didn’t cut off a finger. “I know superior amusement when I’m standing in it.”
“But it’s superior and affectionate amusement. Affectionate enough I’ll teach you a trick.”
“What trick?”
“A quick and easy marinade for that chicken.”
Fear and loathing of the very idea echoed in his voice. “It doesn’t say anything about marinade.”
“It should. Hold on a minute.” Rising, she went to the walk-in pantry. It gave her a jolt, seeing everything mixed up, out of order, jumbled. Then she remembered the police.
Saying nothing, she picked up a bottle of liquid margarita mix.
“I thought we were drinking wine.”
“And so we are. The chicken’s going to drink this.”
“Where’s the tequila?”
She laughed. “Not this time. Actually the chicken I use for tortilla soup drinks tequila, but this one just gets the mixer.”
She got out a large bag, slid the chicken inside, dumped the liquid in with it. Sealed the bag, turned it a few times.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it, that’s all.”
“That part should’ve been for morons. I could’ve done that.”
“Next time you will. It’s good on fish, too, just FYI.”
When she sat again, he went back to focusing on slicing garlic, and not his fingers. “The police were here today, all day, executing a search warrant.” He glanced up. “And you already knew.”
“That they were here, yes. I assumed the search.” Reaching across the island, she brushed her fingers over his wrist. “I’m sorry, Eli.”
“After they left I went through a couple of the rooms, put things back together. It started pissing me off again, so I decided to do something else.”
“Don’t worry about any of that. I’ll take care of it.”
He only shook his head. He intended to do a couple rooms at a time until the house was back to normal. Bluff House and everything in it were his responsibility now.
“It could’ve been worse. They could’ve trashed the place. They were thorough, but I’ve seen searches before, and they didn’t just dump things.”
“Fine, points for them, but it’s still unfair. It’s still wrong.”
“Unfair and wrong happen every hour, every day.”
“That’s a sad and cynical viewpoint.”
“Realistic,” he corrected.
“The hell with that.” Her temper spiked, making her realize it had been in there bubbling all along. “That’s just an excuse to do nothing about it.”
“Do you have any suggestions on what to do about a duly authorized warrant?”
“Having to accept it isn’t the same as accepting it’s just the way life goes. I’m not a lawyer, but I was raised by one, and it’s pretty damn clear they had to push the envelope and push it hard to get a search warrant. And it’s just as clear that Boston cop did the pushing.”
“No argument.”
“He should be sanctioned. You should sue him for harassment. You should be furious.”
“I was. And I talked to my lawyer. If he doesn’t back off, we’ll talk about a suit.”
“Why aren’t you still mad?”
“Jesus, Abra, I’m making chicken from a recipe I got off the Internet because going around the house cleaning up cop mess pissed me off all over again, and I needed something to do with the mad. I don’t have any more room for the mad.”
“Looks like I do, and plenty of it. Just don’t tell me unfair and wrong is just the way it goes. The system’s not supposed to kick people around, and I’m not naive enough to believe it doesn’t sometimes do just that. But I’m human enough to wish it didn’t. . . . I need some air.”
She shoved up, strode to the terrace doors, and out.
Considering, Eli set down the knife, absently swiped his hands on the hips of his jeans, and followed.
“Not helpful.” She waved a hand at him as she paced around the terrace. “None of that was helpful, I know.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“It’s been stuck in my gut since I heard, even though I put two enormous brownies in there with it.”
He knew the classic female reliance on chocolate, though he’d go for the beer instead. “How did you hear about it?”