Unknown - Cat_In_A_Midnight_Choir-spaces_ru

“What about the girl?”

“She was basically all right, just knocked down. But somebody had her by the throat first, and it wasn’t me.”

“Then Nadir is the killer!”

Max hesitated. “He could have arrived on the scene just moments before I did. We all could have heard the girl scream. I can only say that he was there first, but Molina has a lot of reasons for not believing that. If she nailed me for these crimes, she could close the case-book and be pretty sure that Nadir would discreetly fade away.”

“She’d rather see an innocent man convicted than deal with an old boyfriend?”

Max grinned. “I’m not an ‘innocent man’ to her. Never have been.”

“If only you could reveal your counterterrorism past. Don’t you have someone who could testify that you’re a good guy?”

“No. We don’t operate like that. We can’t. You’re taking it on my word that I’m a good guy. As far as any official trail shows, I’m an iffy guy. It served me well when I wanted to infiltrate a rogue operation, but it’s left me without a safety net. About the only respectability I could claim is my magician career and that ended on a suspicious note, to say the least.”

“You’re trapped in this…circumstantial straitjacket, and every time you try to wiggle out of it, you just draw the buckles tighter.”

“Thanks for another vivid but depressing image, appropriate but discouraging.”

“What can you do?”

“Find the real killer. Make sure that Molina doesn’t overlook, or bury, that person in her zeal to cover her past with Nadir. I suppose you could regard her as an enraged rhino protecting her young.”

“Stop! You’re going to make me snort with laughter. That’s so undignified. So…rhinolike! Talk about a vivid image.”

“The trouble is, she’s out there herself, undercover, in the clubs, covering her tracks and Nadir’s. I run the risk of falling into a trap I can’t get out of. And then it’s her word against mine.”

“And mine.”

“You’re not a witness. Well, maybe a character witness. And even there you can hardly defend me. I’ve had to keep too many aspects of my life hidden, even from you. No, this charade is between me and her and whoever killed Cher Smith.”

“If it’s Nadir and he’s working somewhere for the Synth, which you’re being really canny about not telling me where, he’s out of the strip club scene, from what you said.”

Max shook his head. “He gets time off. Can’t stay away. I’ve seen him.”

“Yuck. How could Molina ever have shacked up with a man like that?”

“You still have some professional respect for her?”

“Well, I like to see women making it in a man’s world. I like to think they can bring more sense and integrity to the bull pen, less posturing and selfishness.”

Max blinked.

“All right. I know women can be as corrupted by power as the next guy, but I like to think that I would have integrity and compassion even if I got a lot of power.”

“There you go. You’re imagining what you would do in her place, but you didn’t have to go through what she did to get to her place. It changes you, Temple, grappling with a corrupt system, and all systems are corrupt. You have to compromise somewhere.”

“I have to admit that Molina always struck me as fairly uncompromising. That’s why she irritated me so much. A closed mind is a terrible waste. On the other hand, I never saw her taking the easy way out, or giving it to anyone.”

“I warned you that you’d inadvertently overestimated her. She may not sell out for money or power, but she’s a mother. She’ll do anything to protect her kid.”

Temple nodded. She could see that. Couple Mariah in danger with Molina’s inbred distrust of someone with a revolving-door past like Max, an elusive sort by profession, and you had ice and water in conflict. Enough ice could chill water to a lethal degree, but mobile, shape-shifting water could wear down ice and even stone all the way to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. It just took a lot of time.

Temple decided she’d put her money on always-flexible water, but that ice had taken over a good part of North America in its day, and had trapped a lot of lost species in its path.

“Don’t be glum,” Max prodded her, the performer in him incapable of letting anyone wilt in his presence. “I’ve handled much worse than Molina before. With Nadir somewhat removed from the arena, his presence will be easier to track.”

“You almost had him at the last attack scene.”

Max nodded. “I need to catch him doing something dirty somewhere that Molina isn’t policing.”

“It blows my mind, Molina hooked up with a scumbag. Hey…maybe that’s why she’s never had any respect for my faith in you. She assumes all women hook up with scumbags.”

“Thanks for the spirited defense. I think. I assume you mean that I am not a scumbag.”

“Absolutely. Way too responsible to be a scumbag. ’Course, Molina doesn’t see you as responsible, but as irresponsible. You’d think a cop would be a better detective.”

“I think you’ve been up too late, eating and drinking too lavishly. Time to head home.”

“And where is that? Don’t say second star to the left and straight on to Ophiuchus.” Temple leaned her chin on the heel of her hand. She was feeling a little punchy.

“Circle Ritz for you, where Midnight Louie will no doubt be waiting with a perfectly logical explanation of his eighteen-carat deposit.”

“Not in his box!”

“Not in his box, but on your bed. Then back to my lair for me.”

“Or out joint-crawling?”

“Whatever it takes, Temple. I have to find the one who’s been attacking strippers, or Molina will build a case around me. A non-metaphorical straitjacket.”

“But going out there hunting makes you look more suspicious.”

“She’s doing the same.”

“She’s a cop. She’s not going to be suspected of anything except overwork.”

“All I can say is, the next time we go head-to-head over a crime in progress, Molina won’t be crooning ‘The Man That Got Away’.”

Matt checked his watch. Almost midnight. Almost time for him to take over from Ambrosia.

He liked to come in early and watch Letitia work. Her voice was melted milk chocolate, and the words caught in the tide were pure caramel.

“So you’re feeling bad, honey, that you didn’t trust the dude and let the relationship wither. Can’t go back. All you can do is admit what you lost and go on. We all do it. Every day. In every way.”

Her Valium voice trailed off in a tone of regret that felt personal as she cued the song she’d selected, “The Man That Got Away.”

Funny, Matt thought, that title could almost be a cops-and-robbers anthem.

The content, though, was all bluesy self-torment. Matt saluted Letitia’s therapeutic instincts in letting the caller wallow in her regrets in such gorgeous style. Showed the feeling was classic, constant, human. Showed you could make art from misery, and warned that you could make misery into an art.

The singer was one of the oldies, Jo Stafford or somebody, but Matt could hear Molina doing this song, if she’d ever subscribe to a song so hopeless, where the woman was so low-down and blue.

It was a great ending to the show, but the clock was a few minutes shy of quitting time. Ambrosia whispered into the mike over the song’s closing notes.

“Time for one more request. Once more with feeling. You out there, lonely and blue? Need a little soul music to go on? Come talk to Ambrosia tonight. The moon is full, and so is my song chart.”

“I need a special song, Ambrosia,” a female voice whispered back.

Matt stiffened to sense the barest lilt of a brogue in it.