Every Move She Makes (23 page)

"See if there's any relevance." At the Hall, Torrance pulled the case
from the archives in IA. "Look it over while I go wash up." I opened the
black binder and read the report. It was not your basic officer-involved
shooting IA investigation. An d I did a double-take when I found out
just who Dex's partner was: Scolari. Dex claimed that he and Scolari
were enroute to meet with a snitch, and the snitch pulled a gun on them.

Dex fired twice, according to the report. The question of guilt arose
when the slugs pulled from the dead snitch didn't match. Both were
thirty-eight calibers, but a ballistics test showed they were from
different guns. According to Dex's initial report, Scolar' was right
there with him, but Dex later recanted, stating that everything happened
so fast, he was confused, and maybe he only shot once.

But two rounds had been fired from his weapon.

Scolari maintained that he came up after the shooting, never saw it, but
heard two shots. There were no rounds missing from Scolari's weapon, a
forty caliber, which incidentally was not his normal duty weapon. Like
everyone else, back then he carried a thirty-eight, but had reported it
stolen from his vehicle the night before. That report was attached,
along with photos from the theft report, showing the broken wing window.

"So far it looks like a thorough investigation," Torrance said.

"So far. But I can't help wonder at Scolari's missing thirty-eight. The
way he acted when we ran into Dex at the warehouse that afternoon makes
i-the wonder if he doesn't think Dex was somehow responsible for the
theft of his weapon. Like maybe this whole thing was a setup gone bad."

"You mean like Dex almost got caught."

"Precisely," I said, turning the page. "But how is it there were two
rounds missing from his gun, and only one matched the bullet found in
the dead guy?" I stopped cold when I saw who the witness had been who
had verified Dex's initial report. "Antonio Foust," I said, pointing to
the name on the narrative continuation. "What are the odds that a guy
like Foust just happened to be standing there to see the whole thing?"

"Makes you wonder if he didn't put that extra slug in the guy."

"Doesn't it, though." I stared at the names, wondering about the
implication of what I was seeing. Scolari was Dex s partner? I
remembered the way Scolari avoided him at the warehouse. He'd seemed
tense in Dex's presence. Why? And what connection did Foust have?

Apparently, back then he was more of a bit player. Not well known in the
crime world. "Were you aware that Dex Kermgard and Scolari were
partners?" I asked Torrance.

"From what I recall, it was a short-lived partnership.

About three, four months tops. After the shooting, Scolari was
temporarily reassigned to Property. He blamed Kermgard for the transfer.

and a-, you know. Dex Kermgard quit. I was a rookie at the time, too
busy trying to keep my head above water to pay attention to who was
partnered with whom." "I had no idea," I said. "But when Scolari saw Dex
out at the warehouse, it was definitely apparent that he held some sort
of grudge. What about, I don't know." "Could have been the transfer to
Property. A step down, a blow to the ego."

"Maybe.

It took a good hour to get to my place, but I hardly noticed. I was
daydreaming of sleeping in my own bed, maybe having Thai food delivered
in. We were pulling up in front of my apartment when Torrance spoke.

"Any thoughts on where you want to go to eat dinner?" "What?" I shook
thoughts of TV and microwave popcorn from my head to concentrate on what
he was saying. "You're home. You promised Bettencourt dinner. He made
arrangements for tonight. I figured you'd want to change." I looked down
at the slacks I was wearing, having nearly forgotten that I hadn't
changed since the hospital. And then it struck me what he'd said. Dinner
with Bettencourt. I didn't want to go to dinner with my ex. Not tonight
or any other night. "I've changed my mind," I said. "I want to stay
home." "Then you want me to tell him this dinner thing was all a sham?"

Reid would blow up ifhe suspected a thing. Never mind that I wished I
could take it all back. "No, dinner's fine." We entered my apartment to
find Mathis sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, Dinky
purring i - ... Now away in his lap. As soon as the cat saw me he rose,
then meowed loudly. I scooped the tabby up and nuzzled my face against
his silky hair. "Hello, Dinky. I missed you."

"I missed you too, sweetie," Mathis said with a grin.

He folded up the paper, gave us a quick rundown of the day's happenings,
which consisted of two phone calls from solicitors-I didn't want one
hundred free rolls of film, or a ten dollar coupon good on the Home
Shopping Network, did I? Then with a quick goodbye, he left. I
showered, then changed in my room into an emerald green silk dress that
hit just above my knees. I wasn't the vain sort, but as I surveyed my
reflection, I wondered if I hadn't chosen that particular dress in hopes
of eliciting a compliment out of Torrance.

When I emerged, he looked at his watch. "Not bad.

Only ten minutes before we're due to leave."

"Nice dress" would have worked. Aloud I said,

"You're going?"

"So is your aunt. She wanted a foursome, if you recall."

"I forgot," I said.

"Apparently so." Still no mention of the dress.

Tonight was going to be the date from hell. I seriously considered
claiming illness, a flashback from the pizza, anything-until I saw my
aunt's face as Reid escorted her into my apartment. This was the woman
who had tucked me into bed on those nights my father had worked swing
shifts. She was the one who picked up the pieces of our lives after my
mother ran off with her lover. It was my aunt's shoulder I cried on when
Sean died. I couldn't let her down. She was clearly delighted about
going out, and I told myself for her I would do this. Torrance played
chauffeur, with my aunt riding shotgun, while Reid and I occupied the
backseat. After a friendly debate among the four of us, we ended up at
Berkeley's Fish Grotto, a restaurant just off University and Interstate
80. The lobby area was thick with people, which meant we'd have a good
wait. While Reid gave his name to the hostess, my aunt visited the
ladies' room. Torrance and I jostled our way through the crowd, hoping
to find a seat. I led the way. A woman, clearly drunk, stumbled,
knocking me against Torrance. He caught me, and held me a second too
long.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I caught my breath, amazed that my stomach swirled at the simple touch
of his mouth against my ear. I turned suddenly, faced him, oblivious of
the people trying to guide the woman out. Torrance's gaze met mine, but
before I could decide if my imagination was working overtime and that
this was nothing more than him acting the gentleman to a lady in
distress, Reid stepped up, and whatever possibility that something might
happen was gone. Reid looked from me to Torrance, and I gathered that he
thought he'd missed something. "I didn't buy you that, did I?" Reid
asked, nodding to the dress I'd taken such pains with. "No." I knew
exactly what he was doing. Trying to show that he had prior claims on
me. "You should have worn that red dress I gave you last Christmas
instead." The hostess called our names and seated us, allowing me to
conveniently ignore him. Reid and Torrance opted for lobster and steak,
respectively, while my aunt and I went for the cioppino, the best in the
Bay Area. "This smells heavenly," my aunt said once our dinner was
served. The aroma of spices, tomato base, and seafood wafted up from our
bowls. "I certainly hope no one gets food poisoning like you, dear," she
added, with a wink in my direction.

"They're pretty scrupulous here," I said.

"Well, if I were you, I certainly wouldn't go back to that pizza parlor.

Did they ever find out what it was that went bad?" Reid, Torrance, and I
exchanged glances. "Not yet," I replied. "How's your cioppino?"

"Excellent. So tell me, Lieutenant. is it true the department believes
that Sam Scolari is the Soma Slasher?

"He's not the Slasher," I said.

"Well, surely you don't think he killed his wife?" she asked Torrance.

"It's still under investigation," he replied diplomatically.

Reid tapped his fingers on the table. Figuring he felt left out, and
wanting to change the subject from Scolari to anything else, I said,
"Reid's working some interesting cases at the DA's office."

"Oh?" my aunt said.

"Nothing, really," Reid said, giving her a small smile.

He seemed to like being center of attention.

"Have you finished with the embezzlement at Hilliard Pharmaceutical?" I
asked.

He rose suddenly, pinning his narrowed gaze on me.

"That case is confidential." His response shocked me. Reid never had a
problem discussing cases in front of my aunt before. In fact, he
relished it.

"Since when?" I asked.

"Do you know," Torrance said to my aunt, "I've never had cioppino
before. What is it? A stew?" I could have kissed him for changing the
subject. Aunt Molly pushed her bowl across the table to him. "I suppose
that's exactly what it is. A seafood stew. Dip your bread into it. I
guarantee you won't be disappointed." He did, then tasted it. "Not bad.

I wish I'd ordered it myself." "Excuse me," Reid said tersely, then left
in the direction of the men's room. He hadn't been gone five seconds
when my aunt leaned across the table to me and whispered loud enough for
Torrance, seated beside her, to hear: "I hope you're not planning on
getting back together with Reid. I really don't think he's your type,
dear. Now, Lieutenant Torrance-" "Aunt Molly," I interjected. I smiled
at her, hoping she'd drop the subject.

She completely ignored me. "Are you married, Lieutenant?"

"Uh, no, ma'am," he replied, clearly amused.

Great, I thought. This one I'd never live down.

"Well, do you like high school football? My nephew's quite good."

"I've been known to attend a game or two."

Aunt Molly kicked me under the table and raised her eyebrows, her
actions not missed by Torrance. The waiter's arrival with our cheesecake
and then Reid's return put a stop to that conversation, and I prayed
she'd have the sense not to continue it. Ever.

"What were you talking about?" Reid asked.

"Nothing," I said. I gave him my sweetest smile. And ignored him. Aunt
Molly didn't, however. "I was merely asking the lieutenant if he had a
family," she said, full of innocence. This appeared to mollify him for
the time being, but as the evening progressed, I knew without a doubt
that I should never have agreed to this date. As possessive as Reid was,
we'd never have a future together. Nor was it fair of me to string him
along. I didn't want to deal with the fallout, and for some reason my
mind conjured up thoughts of Reid stalking me to coerce me to go out
with him again. I had no idea if Reid sensed anything, but I knew I had
to somehow end things between us, fast. Thankfully, by the time we all
returned to my apartment, my aunt had convinced Reid that he hadn't
experienced life until he'd learned to play canasta. Reid excused
himself to use the bathroom. When he returned several minutes later, my
aunt dealt the cards, I poured the drinks, and he became embroiled in
learning the game. I wondered if he thought the way to me was through my
aunt. Torrance disappeared into my bedroom shortly thereafter to use the
phone. The call took a long time, but he eventually emerged to work on
reports in the kitchen, not imbibing at all, while the three of us sat
in the living room. Reid and my aunt were into their second game; I was
into my third drink, trying not to think about Torrance, when his
cellular rang. I heard him speaking softly for several minutes, and then
louder, "I'll talk to her about it, then get back to you right away. I
don't know. Give me a few minutes." I looked up as Torrance entered. "I
need to speak to you about something," he said, his expression
unreadable.