“So you’re doing beeswax. Should I reserve the corner booth?”
“Thank you, that would be nice.”
The table fell silent as Jasmine doled out the sandwich plates—the club for Cindy, the turkey dip for Rhonda, and the beef dip for Hayley. She plunked a beer in front of Oliver. “You know what Rolf is drinking these days?”
“Last time I saw him it was straight Stoly,” Oliver said.
“I think he’s off the booze. I’ll bring over a club soda. If he wants something stronger, he can ask for it.”
Oliver looked at his beer. “You know what, Jasmine? I’ve actually got to concentrate tonight. I’ll take a club soda.”
“I’ll switch you,” Cindy said. “One Diet Coke for a beer.”
Hayley chuckled. “She’s going for the buzz.”
“Nah, I’m fine—”
“Famous last words.”
Oliver gave Cindy his beer. “It’s on me. And you can even keep your Diet Coke.”
Hayley was looking at the bar stools. Andy Lopez and Tim Waters were giving them eyes. “You’re attracting the gnats.”
Oliver laughed. “Nah, Marx, it’s your pheromones—”
“No, it’s you,” Hayley interrupted. “Since you’re here, your species thinks it’s okay to approach.”
“My species?” Oliver said. “Last time I took science, we’re the same species.”
“Not according to anyone I’ve ever talked to.”
“Now that is a very good point.” Oliver’s eyes went to the door. He stood up. “I see my date.”
Cindy turned around. Rolf Osmondson was big, bald, with a sizable belly. He wore a handlebar mustache. He looked as if he’d been exploring the fiords. She said, “He doesn’t seem like your type, Scott.”
Oliver regarded her with a mock aghast expression. “Now you’re getting in the act?”
“Just showing solidarity with my sisters.”
Oliver wagged a finger at her. “Don’t draw lines in the sand, Decker, unless you’re prepared for battle.” He ran his index finger across Hayley’s shoulders. “See you later, ladies.” Then: “Or maybe not.”
Cindy watched him go, greeting the Norseman, shaking his hand. They took up the reserved booth in the back. Out of Cindy’s range of vision, which, she supposed, was what they wanted: privacy to discuss a case. She sneaked a sidelong look at Hayley, who was clearly upset. The woman was making a stab at her beef dip, tearing off a grizzled corner and chewing it slowly.
No one spoke.
Finally, she said, “He’s such an idiot!” Then she whispered, “I’m an intelligent woman. Why does he have this effect on me!”
Cindy picked up a French fry. “You know that Sheryl Crow song—‘My Favorite Mistake.’ We all have them.”
“Well, I wish mine wasn’t such an asshole!” She got up from her chair. “I gotta go reapply my lipstick.”
After Hayley was gone, Rhonda took a bite out of her turkey dip. “Poor thing.”
“She covered it well.”
“Except her armpits are the size of swimming pools.”
“How long were they going together?”
“I don’t think they were ever going together. It was just a casual thing.”
“Not to her,” Cindy answered. She glanced at her plate, at the ceiling, at the bar stool. Anywhere but behind her back. Andy Lopez caught her eye. Involuntarily, she nodded, which was a dumb thing to do. Because Andy nudged Tim. Then they both got up.
“Oh dear.” Cindy downed some beer for fortification. “Here they come.”
Rhonda licked her fingers, which were coated with turkey gravy. “You be nice. You’re way too new to be jaded. How old are you? Twenty-one?”
“Twenty-five.”
Rhonda made a surprised face.
“I know. I look young.”
“I would think eighteen except you’re drinking.”
“Hey, Decker.” Tim Waters plunked his scotch on the table. He had a medium build with light brown hair, murky green eyes, and bland features. He struck Cindy as Any-man USA. “Heard you were a big hit with Tropper.”
“Good news travels fast.” Cindy pointed to the chairs. “Take a seat. But bring over another one for Hayley.”
Waters said, “After seeing Oliver, we thought she took off.”
His smirk was ugly. Cindy stared at him long and hard. It must have been effective, because his cheeks pinked. She said, “No, Hayley’s still here … just in the john.”
Waters grabbed another chair and sat. Andy Lopez took up space next to Rhonda. He was on the small, slight side. But Cindy remembered him in the weight room, bench-pressing 320.
Lopez said, “Actually, Brown said you did okay.”
She focused her eyes on him. “That’s good to hear.” She wrinkled her brow. “So why do I feel that there’s an addendum to that statement?”
Lopez stared at her.
She said, “What else did Brown say?”
“Brown’s sitting right over there.” Waters cocked his head toward the bar stools. “Why don’t you go ask him?”
“Because I’m eating my dinner.” Cindy gulped down more beer. “What’d he say, Andy?”
“Just that …” Lopez stole one of Cindy’s French fries. “You know …” His voice faded.
“Perhaps he said something about me and frankfurters?” Cindy caught Jasmine’s eye, mouthing another beer. “I wasn’t hotdoggin’ anything!”
“I believe you, Cin—”
“It was a very tense situation. I was doing the best I could.”
“Brown said you did good,” Waters answered. “What are you bitching about?”
“Because Tropper’s pissed.”
“Yeah, Tropper’s real pissed,” Lopez said.
Cindy stared at him. “And?”
Lopez
