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Darkly dreaming Dexter :: Lindsay Jeffry P.
Страница: 27 из 160It leaves their facesstuck.
“Deb,” I said. I put the crisp white pastry bag on my desk.
“Where were you last night?” she said. Very sour, as I'd expected. Soon those frown lines would turn permanent, ruining a wonderful face: deep blue eyes, alive with intelligence, and small upturned nose with just a dash of freckles, framed by black hair. Beautiful features, at the moment spattered with about seven pounds of cheap makeup.
I looked at her with fondness. She was clearly coming from work, dressed today in a lacy bra, bright pink spandex shorts, and gold high heels. “Never mind me,” I said. “Where were you ?”
She flushed. She hated to wear anything but clean, pressed blues. “I tried to call you,” she said.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Yeah. Sure.”
I sat down in my chair and didn't speak. Deb likes to unload on me. That's what family is for. “Why were you so anxious to talk to me?”
“They're shutting me out,” she said. She opened my doughnut bag and looked inside.
“What did you expect?” I said. “You know how LaGuerta feels about you.”
She pulled the cruller out of the bag and savaged it.
“I expect,” she said, mouth full, “to be in on this. Like the captain said.”
“You don't have any seniority,” I said. “Or any political smarts.”
She crumpled the bag and threw it at my head. She missed. “Goddamn it, Dexter,” she said. “You know damned well I deserve to be in Homicide. Instead of-” She snapped her bra strap and waved a hand at her skimpy costume. “This bullshit.”
I nodded. “Although on you it looks good,” I said.
She made an awful face: rage and disgust competing for space. “I hate this,” she said. “I can't do this much longer or I swear, I'll go nuts.”
“It's a little soon for me to have the whole thing figured out, Deb.”
“Shit,” she said. Whatever else you could say about police work, it was ruining Deborah's vocabulary. She gave me a cold, hard cop-look, the first I'd ever had from her. It was Harry's look, the same eyes, same feeling of looking right through you to the truth. “Don't bullshit me, Dex,” she said. “All you have to do half the time is see the body, and you know who did it. I never asked you how you do that, but if you have any hunches on this one, I want 'em.” She kicked out savagely and put a small dent in my metal desk. “Goddamn it, I want out of this stupid outfit.”
“And we'd all love to see that, Morgan,” came a deep and phony voice from behind her in the doorway.
“Deb,” I said. I put the crisp white pastry bag on my desk.
“Where were you last night?” she said. Very sour, as I'd expected. Soon those frown lines would turn permanent, ruining a wonderful face: deep blue eyes, alive with intelligence, and small upturned nose with just a dash of freckles, framed by black hair. Beautiful features, at the moment spattered with about seven pounds of cheap makeup.
I looked at her with fondness. She was clearly coming from work, dressed today in a lacy bra, bright pink spandex shorts, and gold high heels. “Never mind me,” I said. “Where were you ?”
She flushed. She hated to wear anything but clean, pressed blues. “I tried to call you,” she said.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Yeah. Sure.”
I sat down in my chair and didn't speak. Deb likes to unload on me. That's what family is for. “Why were you so anxious to talk to me?”
“They're shutting me out,” she said. She opened my doughnut bag and looked inside.
“What did you expect?” I said. “You know how LaGuerta feels about you.”
She pulled the cruller out of the bag and savaged it.
“I expect,” she said, mouth full, “to be in on this. Like the captain said.”
“You don't have any seniority,” I said. “Or any political smarts.”
She crumpled the bag and threw it at my head. She missed. “Goddamn it, Dexter,” she said. “You know damned well I deserve to be in Homicide. Instead of-” She snapped her bra strap and waved a hand at her skimpy costume. “This bullshit.”
I nodded. “Although on you it looks good,” I said.
She made an awful face: rage and disgust competing for space. “I hate this,” she said. “I can't do this much longer or I swear, I'll go nuts.”
“It's a little soon for me to have the whole thing figured out, Deb.”
“Shit,” she said. Whatever else you could say about police work, it was ruining Deborah's vocabulary. She gave me a cold, hard cop-look, the first I'd ever had from her. It was Harry's look, the same eyes, same feeling of looking right through you to the truth. “Don't bullshit me, Dex,” she said. “All you have to do half the time is see the body, and you know who did it. I never asked you how you do that, but if you have any hunches on this one, I want 'em.” She kicked out savagely and put a small dent in my metal desk. “Goddamn it, I want out of this stupid outfit.”
“And we'd all love to see that, Morgan,” came a deep and phony voice from behind her in the doorway.