comments had left her disconcerted. She didn’t want to play the role of the stand-alone, crusading against the world. The maverick made for fine fiction, but was a bitch in reality.
What she wanted was to blend in. What the hell was wrong with her?
Ah well, she sighed. She couldn’t change the past, so she concentrated on the present. Andy Lopez and his partner, Tim Waters, were still at the bar. Andy seemed like a straight-up guy. Tim didn’t impress her much. Conversation with them would be strictly lightweight.
Gotta do better than that.
At one of the tables were Hayley Marx and Rhonda Nordich. About thirty, Hayley was a seven-year vet. She was tall—at least five ten—and had short blond hair and sharp brown eyes. Rhonda was a civilian who worked the front desk at the detectives’ squadroom. She was older … in her forties, maybe even fifties. She had deep, smoky skin and short kinky hair that was more salt than pepper. Cindy had exchanged pleasantries with Hayley, but had never spoken to Rhonda. But they seemed preferable to Lopez and Waters.
Beer in hand, she stood and ambled over. Hayley looked up, then went back to her white wine. “Get a load off.”
“Thanks.” Since the two women were across from each other, she was forced to sit beside one. She turned to Rhonda and held out her hand. “Cindy Decker.”
“Rhonda Nordich.” She shook Cindy’s hand. “I worked with your father way back when.”
“In Foothills?”
“Yeah, in Foothills. He’s at Devonshire now, isn’t he?”
She nodded.
“He was a nice guy.” Rhonda chuckled and swirled her club soda. “Probably still is. Why do you do that? Talk about a person you knew in the past like they was dead?”
Cindy smiled. “I don’t know.”
“Well, say hi for me.”
“I will.”
No one spoke. Everyone drank.
Hayley said, “I see they got you partnered with Beaudry.”
“Yeah.”
“So what do you think?”
Cindy was taken aback by the frankness of Marx’s question. “He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Why? Is there something I should know?”
Hayley sipped her Chardonnay. “Well, put it this way. He ain’t gonna qualify for the marathon.”
“Oh … that. Yeah, I already know about that.”
“About what?” Rhonda asked.
Cindy said, “He’s a little slow with his footwork.”
Hayley said, “You know, rumor has it that Slick Rick Bederman requested a transfer because of that. He was wrestling with a perp who had a knife. By the time Beaudry got there, the perp almost sliced an ear off. I’m not saying Beaudry’s not a good guy. Just telling you the pitfalls. So don’t go thinking I’m talking against him.”
“Not at all.” Still, Cindy felt uncomfortable. “I appreciate it. But I’m okay with him.”
“Suit yourself.” Hayley finished her glass of wine. “Are you just drinking tonight or what?”
“I’ve got nothing special on my roster.”
“We’re going to have some grub. You’re welcome to join us.”
Cindy smiled. “Well, there is that two-day-old bowl of pasta in my fridge.”
Hayley finally smiled. “That’s pathetic.”
Rhonda said, “You young ones just don’t cook anymore.”
Cindy said, “I can cook.” A pause. “I just choose not to—”
“Uh-huh,” Rhonda said.
“It’s a volitional thing,” Cindy said.
Hayley said, “Now, Rhonda, if you’re dying to cook for us—”
“After four kids, I’ve had enough with feeding mouths. Only mouth I want to feed right now is my own.”
Cindy said, “What’s good here?”
“How hungry are you?” Hayley asked. “Sandwich hungry? Or steak or chop hungry?”
“More sandwich than chop.”
“Try the beef dip,” Hayley said.
“Maybe I’ll have the beef dip,” Rhonda said. “Although I should have the turkey dip. I’m watching the fat.”
“Turkey dip’s not as good as the beef dip.” Hayley turned to Cindy. “It’s very dry.”
Cindy said, “You know, Rhonda, I’ll have the beef dip, and we can split, if you want.”
“If you’re having the beef dip, then maybe I’ll have the tuna,” Hayley said. “You don’t mind if I steal a little from you … although tuna and beef dip don’t exactly go together.”
“Well, it’s not steak and lobster,” Cindy said.
“Maybe I’ll have the pastrami on rye,” Hayley said. “Do you like pastrami, Cindy?”
“I love pastrami.”
“Now I’m not touching that!” Rhonda said. “Talk about fat.”
“That’s no good,” Hayley said. “If you want to split, Ro, I’ll take something else. How about ham and cheese?” She turned to Cindy. “You like ham and cheese?”
“Not really. I don’t eat ham. I’m Jewish.”
“Oh …” Hayley thought for a moment. “So you’re kosher?”
“No, I’m not kosher, I just don’t eat ham. We never had it growing up. Although sometimes we did have bacon.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.” She shrugged.
Hayley said, “So if I had a club, you’d split that?”
“Yeah, I’d split that.”
“And that’s okay with you, Ro?”
“What’s in a club?”
“Turkey, bacon, and avocado.”
“Skip the avocado. It’s not that I don’t like avocado.”
