Alex Barclay - Harm's Reach

‘And?’ said Janine.

‘My main issue is the dearth of witness statements for a night like that,’ said Ren.

‘I know,’ said Janine, ‘but... that’s not what we’re here for. The exercise is not to solve one of my cases, it’s to find a possible link to Laura Flynn...’

Ooh. ‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘I’m not trying to do your job or anything, I’m just... curious. There should be more guests on that list. This was a high society event and there seem to be lots of statements from busboys and ticket-takers and waitresses. It’s light on party guests.’

‘I know,’ said Janine, ‘but... honestly, hours of your valuable time could go by in a sea of these statements.’

Grrr.

‘And aren’t you supposed to be having a romantic evening with Mr Rader?’

‘That’s a story for another time,’ said Ren.

‘Please tell me you have not had a fight... Can you only take him by the weekend?’ She laughed.

‘No...’ No.

‘What is wrong with you?’ said Janine.

‘I do not know,’ said Ren. ‘I was tired...’

‘Is he there?’ said Janine.

‘He stormed out.’

‘Well, I’m sure he’ll be back when he’s cooled off. And Ren? Make up with him. Don’t be afraid.’

‘Stop that,’ said Ren. ‘You’re assuming this was an insignificant argument.’

‘Mm, OK... Was this a significant argument?’

‘No,’ said Ren.

‘Were some of the things he said to you correct?’ said Janine.

‘Yes.’

‘And did you throw in a few nasty comments?’

‘I did.’

‘Right, my judgment stands,’ said Janine. ‘In the matter of Ren Bryce v Ben Rader, I order Ren Bryce to get a grip.’

‘Thank you, Your Honor.’

‘In the meantime,’ said Janine, ‘do not drive yourself nuts with all these. Skim them, if that’s possible.’

Don’t be ridiculous.

‘I called Kristen Faule, by the way,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve set up a meeting with Conor Gorman at two p.m. tomorrow.’

Ren went back to the file and Janine’s cross-referenced notes with the Angelo Marianelli disappearance. It was in December 1957; six weeks after Viggi Leinster. One witness, a busboy in Vescovi’s, had said that he was aware of an affair between Angelo Marianelli and Viggi Leinster.

Ren went back to the statement of Viggi Leinster’s neighbor. It was strange that there was no mention of a man ever calling to Viggi Leinster’s apartment. Wouldn’t this man she was having an affair with be visiting her apartment? Or was he wealthy enough that they met in hotels? Starlets were like lightbulbs to moths. She was beautiful. She would have had all kinds swarming around her...

There was a print-out of Angelo Marianelli’s mugshot clipped to the page. He was a pinch-faced, birdy, mean-looking man. There was nothing of the charming rogue about him.

What were you thinking, Viggi Leinster?

The doorbell rang.

Shit. Ben.

What were you thinking, Ren Bryce?

Ren went to the front door, checked it was Ben, and let him in.

‘Hey,’ he said.

‘Hey,’ said Ren.

He walked into the living room.

‘You’ve been working...’

‘Yup,’ said Ren. ‘What have you been doing?’

‘Thinking,’ he said. ‘I just drove around... then I called into Gary.’

Jesus Christ. I forget you are colleagues/friends. Please tell me that Gary Dettling assumes I have not told you I’m bipolar. Please tell me you did not say we had a fight.

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about us,’ said Ben.

‘Thank God,’ said Ren.

‘I’d never cross that line. Neither would Gary.’

I feel horrible now. ‘Ben, I’m sorry about earlier. I... really am.’

‘I’m sorry too.’

‘But I don’t think you have any reason to be,’ said Ren. ‘I didn’t like that you walked out, though... but I can see why.’

He held his arms open. ‘Come here.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Ren.

He laughed and hugged her. ‘We have no reason to fight,’ he said.

He held her against his chest. ‘I know,’ she said. Tell that to the psycho inside me.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Ren. ‘I really am.’

‘Hey,’ said Ben, pulling back. ‘I know you are. Me too.’ He held her face and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

Ren woke up in the middle of the night, agitated, disoriented, stiff. Her first thoughts were all about Laura Flynn and second-trimester terminations. She remembered Ingrid Prince’s words about the surrogacy:

‘Nothing had changed between when we agreed to this and now.’

Was that true?

Ren grabbed her phone and typed in a reminder to go through the Princes and Laura Flynn’s lives over the previous six months.

Why am I so agitated?

She looked at the clock.

It’s five a.m. — that’s why. The biggest piece of shit of a time on the clock.

She switched off the phone, and turned around to Ben. He was fast asleep, smiling at something. He was a handsome, handsome man. She buried her head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

Warm and safe, warm and safe.

The office felt empty the following morning. There was an eerie silence in the hallway.

The entire building is frowning upon my lateness.

And walking slowly will not in any way salvage time or halt its passage.

She went into the bullpen. It was only when she got to her desk that she realized someone was sitting opposite it. In Colin Grabien’s chair.

Cur-sed chair .

‘Whoa,’ she said. ‘You scared the...’

Broad-shouldered, smartly-dressed, stars-in-a-cop-show good-looking. Dark, non-nerdy side-parted hair, blue eyes. Non-sexy-to-me-but-possibly-to-most-other-women-what-is-wrong-with-me.

He half-stood. ‘Hello,’ he said, reaching out his arm. Ren walked over and shook his hand.

Smells of Pasha de Cartier.

The scent of hotness. And a permanently fired-up boyfriend from my youth.

‘My youth’... grim.

‘You must be Ren.’

‘Despite all efforts to the contrary, unfortunately, yes, I must be Ren.’

‘I’m Cujo Chastain.’

What. The?

He smiled.

Very nice smile.

‘The guys told me to say that. My name isn’t Cujo Chastain...’

‘Stephen King,’ said Ren. ‘They’re so mean.’

‘I believe you think the chair is cursed.’

‘No, because only a crazy lady would think that, and I am sane... unless you will be working here for a period longer than a few hours, which is about as long as I can ever keep up that charade...’

He smiled. ‘I’m Everett.’

‘Oh, you were here while I was TDY’d to Glenwood Springs a few years back.’ Exiled on Temporary Duty after Gary worked out I was sleeping with a confidential informant, even though neither of us said it out loud... release breath.

‘Yes,’ said Everett. ‘I enjoyed my time here. You were missed, though.’

Aw. ‘So, where is everybody?’

‘Your Shark Bait Bandits have struck again. In Littleton — FirstBank, Chatfield and Wadsworth.’

‘Shit — did I miss that?’ said Ren. ‘Shit — did I forget to turn my phone on this morning?’ She had discovered the lateness of the hour from Annie’s wall clock.

‘D’oh.’

‘I have never done that before,’ said Ren. Not... accidentally. She took out her phone. Shit . She turned it on.

‘Well, anyway,’ said Everett, ‘I’m just here working on some horrible trail of financial irregularities that I am one hundred percent addicted to unraveling.’