JК
Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 28 из 138“Desire is an easy read with people – especially with the things we know weshouldn’t do. I’m a detective. Homicide.”
He’s right. I used to smoke. More than a pack a day, in fact. I started after I moved to New York. Not that I’m about to admit it and give him the satisfaction.
He takes another long drag and continues to stare at me. “Of course, there are so many things that can kill you in this city, what’s one more?”
It’s the perfect opening to ask him what happened – who were the people in the hotel and how did they die? But again there’s that vibe. Is he trying to get me to talk about it? If so, why? What could I know about four strangers?
“What brings you back here?” I ask instead.
And like that, he grins. Not unpleasantly, and he seems more human. “Sometimes the bad guy is dumb enough to return to the scene of the crime,” he says. “Or bad girl, as the case may be.”
So much for that vibe being just a vibe.
“What did you say your name was again?” he asks.
“I didn’t.”
He reaches into his jacket. Out come a ballpoint pen and a notepad. “Any time you’re ready,” he says, poised to write.
“Are you interrogating me?”
“No, I’m just asking for your name.”
“It’s Kristin Burns,” I quickly answer. “And yours?”
He stares at me. Those eyes.
“Delmonico,” he says. “Detective Frank Delmonico.”
He reaches into his jacket again and hands me his card. I don’t look at it. On purpose. Instead, I glance at my watch.
“Listen, I’m sorry to cut this short,” I say, “but I’m afraid I’m going to be late for work.”
It sounds like such a line, and for the most part it is. Then again, this guy has never encountered the wrath of Penley “the Pencil” Turnbull. As much as I want to hightail it out of there, I also need to. Otherwise, Detective Frank Delmonico might be investigating another death, this time up on Fifth Avenue. Mine.
“I promise,” I say. “If we can do this later, I’ll answer any question you have. But I don’t know anything. Just tell me where we can meet.”
He snaps his notepad shut. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he says. “I’ll find you. It won’t be a problem.”
Then he touches one finger to the side of his temple. “Detective, remember? Homicide.”
Chapter 22
HUFF AND PUFF, huff and puff.
But Penley isn’t waiting for me at the door when I arrive for work.
He’s right. I used to smoke. More than a pack a day, in fact. I started after I moved to New York. Not that I’m about to admit it and give him the satisfaction.
He takes another long drag and continues to stare at me. “Of course, there are so many things that can kill you in this city, what’s one more?”
It’s the perfect opening to ask him what happened – who were the people in the hotel and how did they die? But again there’s that vibe. Is he trying to get me to talk about it? If so, why? What could I know about four strangers?
“What brings you back here?” I ask instead.
And like that, he grins. Not unpleasantly, and he seems more human. “Sometimes the bad guy is dumb enough to return to the scene of the crime,” he says. “Or bad girl, as the case may be.”
So much for that vibe being just a vibe.
“What did you say your name was again?” he asks.
“I didn’t.”
He reaches into his jacket. Out come a ballpoint pen and a notepad. “Any time you’re ready,” he says, poised to write.
“Are you interrogating me?”
“No, I’m just asking for your name.”
“It’s Kristin Burns,” I quickly answer. “And yours?”
He stares at me. Those eyes.
“Delmonico,” he says. “Detective Frank Delmonico.”
He reaches into his jacket again and hands me his card. I don’t look at it. On purpose. Instead, I glance at my watch.
“Listen, I’m sorry to cut this short,” I say, “but I’m afraid I’m going to be late for work.”
It sounds like such a line, and for the most part it is. Then again, this guy has never encountered the wrath of Penley “the Pencil” Turnbull. As much as I want to hightail it out of there, I also need to. Otherwise, Detective Frank Delmonico might be investigating another death, this time up on Fifth Avenue. Mine.
“I promise,” I say. “If we can do this later, I’ll answer any question you have. But I don’t know anything. Just tell me where we can meet.”
He snaps his notepad shut. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he says. “I’ll find you. It won’t be a problem.”
Then he touches one finger to the side of his temple. “Detective, remember? Homicide.”
Chapter 22
HUFF AND PUFF, huff and puff.
But Penley isn’t waiting for me at the door when I arrive for work.