Ed McBain - Three Blind Mice

“Thanks,” Matthew said drily, and shook hands with him.

“Let me know if there’s any problem. Rush.”

“Will do.”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Pat,” he said, and walked out.

Patricia glared at his retreating back.

“I’ll walk you down,” she said to Matthew.

The sun had been up for almost half an hour.

Everything outside was wet with early-morning dew.

Everything smelled so sweet and clean and fresh.

Everything looked so very Florida.

“Want to have breakfast with me?” Patricia asked.

He looked at her.

“My painters are gone,” she said. “I’ll open some champagne. Celebrate your victory.”

He looked at her a moment longer.

Then he said, “Thanks, but I’m exhausted. Some other time, okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “See ya.”

He watched her as she walked toward the parking lot behind the building. Confident swing to her hips, long stride, blond hair reflecting sunlight… Will there really be some other time, Matthew?

Will we ever know each other better?

There was a pay phone on the corner.

He dialed Mai Chim’s number from memory. She answered on the fifth ring.

“Hello?” she said.

The singsong voice, fuzzy with sleep now.

“Want to have breakfast with me?” he asked.