shuddered and I didn't care if he noticed. `Not with me, mate. I think our five minutes is up.'
I abruptly pushed back my chair. The legs caught on the cheap carpet mats and the chair went tumbling. Everybody's heads turned to stare. I'm not sure, but I think I was making an impression and not necessarily a good one. I picked up the fallen chair and tucked it back under the table. I straightened my jacket, subtly readjusted my gun holster and then cast my eye about for another vacant lot.
There was only one. The man was a bear. He was big, brown and hairy. And he looked sort of familiar. I purposefully sauntered over.
`Evening,' I said again. `May I sit down?'
`That's the idea.' He looked me up and down. `Nice to see you've made an effort.'
He waved a paw at my jeans and leather.
`You have a problem with the way I dress?' Was this part of the five minute get-to-know-you stuff? He wouldn't win any best-dressed awards either. His charcoal grey jacket was rumpled as if he'd slept in it for a week and there were dangerous stains on his maroon tie. I should think he hadn't bothered to change his shirt for several days. His tie for several decades. He was a businessman's disaster. He smiled without warmth.
`Most of the women here are dressed to kill. Either you wanted to make a statement by being different or-'
`How do you work that one out?'
`By dressing so contrarily to the other ladies, you instantly attract every man's attention.'
`And my other reason?' I might as well hear it, even though I knew I probably wouldn't like it.
`You're butch.'
`Oh. I see. Well, we've only got five minutes. Do you want to spend it trading insults?' I asked sweetly, trying not to grind my teeth. Surely I didn't look butch? I was a mother for goodness sake. The bear should get together with Zefferelli so they could swap bad impressions.
`Yeah, why not? It'll make a change from sugar-coated innuendos.'
I'd recognised him by this stage. He was the bloke in the gorgeous silver Rover who'd tried to pick up Fox.
`Okay,' I said. `It's my turn. You're the type of man who picks up prostitutes for lunch; male and female.'
His eyes narrowed. `You're a hooker,' he said flatly.
`Worse - I'm a cop. But at least I'm not a divorce lawyer.'
The bear leaned back in his chair. If he leaned back any further, I was sure the chair legs would snap. I was tempted, in a juvenile sort of way, to stick out my foot and push the chair the last centimetre or so, just to make certain.
`So you know who I am,' he said. It was not a question.
`Leo Stark. Married and divorced three times - I hope you give yourself cheap rates. You own a small practice in Subiaco, have a very nice Rover on lease and you need to attend Weight Watchers before heart disease and diabetes overtake you. At a guess, I would say you're moderately successful as a lawyer, hit the booze too hard and are a pussycat where unsuitable women are concerned. How do I score?'
He was silent. His eyes were still narrowed so I couldn't read any expression in them. I should think it was a learned lawyer tactic. He stroked his beard with one large paw. There was a signet ring on his pinky but from this distance I couldn't make out what was engraved on it.
`You don't score. Our five minutes have expired.' He rocked the chair back on all fours and then left without a backward glance.
I watched him go all the way. He negotiated the tables like a huge sea-faring galleon avoiding treacherous rocks. For a big man he moved with surprising grace. He waved to Josie and then left the Hit and Miss. Why was he in such a hurry to leave? I wasn't that ugly or that butch. Maybe he didn't like police officers. It was common enough but it still bothered me. Did Leo Stark have something to hide? Or was he fed up with the whole speed dating game? I know I was, and I'd only been there ten minutes.
In fact, I was very tempted to follow him out. But before I could put the thought into action, Josie rushed over to my singleton table. `What did you say to Leo?' she demanded with a squeak. `He never leaves early. Were you rude?'
`She was rude to me,' Mr Psycho piped up.
`And she hasn't even bothered to speak to me,' said another loser.
`I'm learning how this whole thing works, okay? Back off, the lot of you.' I felt like drawing my gun to underscore my frustration.
`No need to get snitchy,' said the Barbie grandma. `There's still time for you all to mingle and get to know each other.'
She then eyeballed me with one of her china-blue eyes. The other was pointing to the ceiling. I guess the plastic surgeon hadn't had the expertise to fix her squint.
`We don't want trouble, Eve,' she admonished. `Play by the rules or you'll be expelled.'
Grief, this sounded much too much like Saint Immaculata's. Get me out of here!
`Now here comes one of our new clients. Do try to be nice.' She took hold of my arm in a surprisingly strong grip and led me to yet another small, round table where a salesman type in a blue suit sat with a smug, self-satisfied gleam in his leering eyes. I swung a panicked glance around the room for Margot. She must have picked up my vibes because she was standing up and staring in our direction.
`Help!' I mouthed.
She smiled and did a little finger wave back and then returned her attention to whoever she was speed dating. No escape there, then. She obviously didn't want to squander her precious five minutes of chat-up time. I would have to bear it then. But not without a reward, that was for sure. I promised myself a treat if I got through the next five minutes without gagging.
I squared my shoulders and met my opponent.
`Hello, I'm Eve,' I said with as much warmth as a chilled watermelon.
`I wish I could say I was Adam,' he smirked back. `But my name's Den. You can call me Tiger.'
I failed the treat challenge and gagged.
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