the number of shops and restaurants around them began to dwindle, Darcy pointed to a park entrance across the street. “Come on. We can check out the painters’ exhibit and the flea market. There’s also a band shell, a carousel and, if we’re lucky, a puppet show.”
When he didn’t respond, she sighed. “Enterprise to Captain Kirk. Are you still running swiped laptop info in that overactive brain of yours?”
He sent her a sideways glance. “For your information, it was Spock, not Kirk, who had the overactive brain.”
“You don’t give us Earthlings much credit, do you, Marlowe? The rise to captain in any field of endeavor takes a great deal of brainpower.” She regarded him in profile. “As a point of interest, how high did you rise in yours?”
“Lieutenant in the homicide division.”
There was a rough edge to his voice that intrigued her. Before she could question it, he gave a humorless laugh.
“Yeah, I was all about murder once. Gang related, random, premeditated, crimes of passion—you name it, I investigated it.”
She tread carefully. “In New York?”
“New York, Chicago, L.A. That’s where I met Val.”
“You met Val in Los Angeles?” For some reason, a chill danced along her spine. She shook it off. Almost. “When was that, exactly?”
He gave her another shrewd sideways look. “I know what you’re thinking, Darcy, but Val’s a good cop. Screwed-up, sure, but that’s a personal thing.”
“Uh-huh, and no cop has ever sold out for personal reasons— She stopped herself and shot him an apologetic look. “That was totally out of line. He’s your friend. You know him. I’m just looking for—well, anything, really. Give me another twenty-four hours, and I’ll start questioning the principles of my godmother.”
“Who’s out of the running because…?”
She laughed. “To start with, Nana lives in Geneva. She fosters abused pets and troubled teens, and she’s an ordained minister.” Darcy turned away from the cluster of flea market tents where couples and families wandered. “Uh, Marlowe? There’s a guy back there, wearing a Yankees cap. I think I saw him when we bought our hoagies.”
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