Макс Коллинз - No One Will Hear You

“I hate this woman.”

“Then don’t look in the mirror.”

She didn’t. She looked at him. She leaned over and gave him a kiss. It was just threatening to last awhile when a horn honked behind them as traffic finally started to move.

“I am basically a serious type,” she admitted, looking at the road, not Harrow. “But you have to laugh. All cops know that, otherwise they go nuts or eat their piece.”

“No argument.”

“Like those numb-nut uniforms who came up with ‘Billy Shears’ as a nickname. I get it. You can’t be in a job that makes you look at death on a regular basis and not develop a sense of humor.”

“Working sex crimes must be tough.”

She nodded. “You run into just about every nasty kink in the human psyche that you ever heard of. And then you run into some more. It’s when kids are involved that I have to self-medicate.”

“How do you do that?”

“White zin, mostly.”

“And beer over a Dodger Dog?”

“And beer over a Dodger Dog.”

Traffic crept forward.

“I don’t do sick humor,” he said. He sounded almost ashamed of himself.

Her eyes narrowed. “You never went to an electrocution and came out saying, ‘That came as a shock to the bastard’?”

“Nope.”

“Never caught an asphyxiation vic and told your partner, ‘Takes my breath away’?”

He shook his head.

“Bullshit, J.C.”

He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“Never? Never never?”

Sheepishly, he said, “I got called to a crime scene once — when I was with DCI? A dead accountant. He had screwed up a guy’s taxes and the client got so pissed, he stabbed the CPA with a letter opener. Twelve times.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Harrow said. “I said to the detective, ‘Bet he never figured on this.’ ”

“I knew you were as sick as the rest of us!”

“Actually, I wasn’t. I just said it and accidentally made a stupid joke. Hey, I’m not funny. But I have a sense of humor. A sense of humor doesn’t mean you’re funny, it means you understand funny.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You’re boring.”

He laughed out loud at that, and so did she.

They were pulling into the stadium lot. Anna

paid the cashier, then found a place to park. As they meandered toward the stadium, the sun setting, the warm breeze from the south, Harrow said, “Another case, a pissed-off wife shot her cheating husband — a dentist?”

“You didn’t.”

“And I said he got—”

“Drilled?”

“No. I said this time he got a new cavity.”

“Okay, J.C. — now you’re just screwing with me.”

“Just screwing with you, Anna? Isn’t that what they call a straight line? The funny people, I mean?”

She gave him a friendly elbow, then slipped an arm through his.

Inside, good as her word, Anna sprang for dinner, Dodger Dogs and beers. They took their time eating, and as they watched the game, Anna occasionally made a comment about a player or a bad (or good) call, but didn’t overdo the play-by-play. Harrow was enjoying the anonymity of the crowd as they sat up high, behind the plate.

“You know,” he said, “I could have gotten UBC to get us better seats. Box seats, even.”

“There are no better seats. These are season tickets. The Amari family’s been in these babies since Dodger Stadium opened.”

He lobbed it out. “Ever come here with a husband?”

“Just my own. Don’t worry — it didn’t take. Amari’s my family name — I never did use his.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. He had a great sense of humor, by the way. But I lost mine when he ran around.”

She said that with her usual flippancy, but he caught the hurt.

“He was a fool,” he said.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Not easy being married to a cop... Oh, J.C., I’m sorry.”

Apparently she realized she’d accidentally invoked his late wife.

“You have mustard on your mouth,” he said.

He gave her a quick kiss and removed it.

She studied him, between innings. “Are we moving a little fast?”

“Maybe. Considering this is my first date in five years.”

“You’re sweet.” She squeezed his arm and then left her hand there.

The warmth of this woman’s flesh on his gave him a sudden rush of guilt.

He was, after all, a healthy male who had been married for over twenty years but had, after his wife’s death, made zero effort to find new female companionship. He had his doubts about the existence of God — he’d seen too much horror on the job not to — but he allowed himself a vague sense that someday he and Ellen would be reunited.

Anna’s husband had cheated on her.

Was he cheating on Ellen?

In the meantime, he was having trouble concentrating on the game and Anna’s hand seemed in no real hurry to leave his arm.

His cell phone vibrated.

A few fans glared at him as he answered, softly, “Harrow.”

“Don Juan’s date?”

It was Jenny.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“I know who she is.”

Next to him, Anna’s phone chirped. She turned away slightly and answered it. Everyone in their section hated them now.

“Wendi Erskine,” Jenny said.

“Good. Anything else?”

“Nope — facial recognition software just pulled that.”

“Keep digging.”

No good-byes — they both hung up.

Anna was saying into her cell, “Where is it?”

Harrow watched, making no pretense of not eavesdropping.

“All right,” she said. “Okay. Gotta change first, then I’ll be there.”

She clicked off and rose. “Sorry. Got something.”

Then he was following her up the aisle steps, the crack of bat meeting ball not even getting her to pause for a glance.

Harrow asked her back, “Another body?”

They were starting down the tunnel before she answered. “You know I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Sure I can. Look, it sucks, but I can’t give you a ride back to your office. Heading the other way.”

“The network will get me a cab.”

“But you aren’t working.”

“Sure I am. I’m on seduction duty to make an LAPD detective tell me everything she knows.”

She was smiling. “Maybe you are funny.”

He smiled back, sighed. “... I was having fun.”

“Me, too.”

They were walking down the ramp toward the ground level.

“One more thing,” he said, stopping her.

“What?”

“Your Hollywood sign vic — her name is Wendi Erskine.”

She frowned. “Where did you get that?”

“Did you have it already? Had you ID’ed her?”

“No! Where did you get it, J.C.?”

He shrugged. “Not important.”

An edge crept in as she said, “At least respect me enough to tell me how you got the information.”

He told her that Jenny had made the ID using facial recognition software.

“That’s fricking illegal!“

“You want to bust us, Anna, or take the info and use it? That assumes you’re telling me the truth and you didn’t already know the victim’s name.”

“I don’t lie to you, J.C., but you’ve been lying to me. You said you’d stay out of this investigation.”

“No. You told me to stay out of the investigation. I said I’d do my best to stay out of your way. Two different things.”

“Are you out of your mind? You’re not a cop anymore!”

“I never stopped being a cop. Anna, this son of a bitch is trying to use my show to make himself famous. You can bet your very sweet ass that I am going to do everything I can to stop him.”