Brooding City: Brooding City Series Book 1 Read Free Page A

one shuttle stop of the police headquarters. He lived in an apartment less than a block from the station, and the diner which he and Detective Bishop were now sitting in was one of his local favorites. The walk was a short but healthy addition to the day.
    Especially for an aging detective subsisting on stale donuts and coffee.
    The Box Car Diner had the typical morning crowd. Coffee drinkers at the counter chatting up the head waitress. A pair of blue-collar workers grabbing a quick breakfast before work. There was a family of four in the corner. The children eagerly scribbled on the backs of their menus with crayons.
    Bishop was still irritated from before, though the walk had released some of her tension. Her need for food was also a mitigating factor, and Brennan knew it would soon be a non-issue. It was hard to be angry on a full stomach.
    “How are you doing?”
    Bishop looked up at him with tired eyes. “How do you mean?”
    “I mean with everything that happened between you and Sam.”
    “Sam and I aren’t anything anymore. I just wish he’d stay out of my life.”
    “He’s my friend, Noel.” Brennan sighed. “Look, I’m not asking you two to get back together—”
    “Lord knows that’ll never happen,” Bishop muttered.
    “—but there must be some way you can bury the hatchet. Call a truce. What happened, happened, and we can’t go back and change it.”
    “Nobody’s asking you to do anything, Brennan. You aren’t a part of this.”
    He held his hands up. “Sorry, poor choice of words. You can’t change the past, is what I’m saying. But he’s my friend, and he used to mean something to you, too. And we both know he’s damn good at his job.”
    “I’m damn good at my job, too,” she said, her voice hard. “And I don’t appreciate you treating me the same way he does. You’re my partner, Brennan. We’re supposed to trust each other, but that’s hard to do when you act like a jackass.”
    “Bishop,” he said, stunned. “I was just joking, I didn’t mean—”
    “What was in that folder he gave you?”
    “Don’t change the subject.”
    Bishop shifted and crossed her arms, her eyes resolute. “Well, your jokes aren’t funny, and I don’t want to talk about it, so we might as well work the case. What did he find out?”
    Brennan looked at her for a moment, his own eyes hard. A few years his senior, Noel was a tough nut to crack. She was resilient, but some wounds took more time to heal, and adultery was one hell of a wound. Nothing he could say right then would sway her, and he knew that particular conversation was over. For now.
    He took the manila folder from the seat and opened it on the table so Bishop could read. Her eyes scanned each page as she cycled through them, picking out relevant details.
    “You had him look into Zachariah’s financial history? Why? We know what he makes, he’s just a part-time pharmacist.”
    “Right,” Brennan said. “But did you look at where he was living? He had some things even I couldn’t afford.”
    Bishop raised an eyebrow. “We don’t make much.”
    “True enough. This kid is fresh out of college, though. He should be worrying about student loans and making enough money just to keep the heat on.”
    “The neighborhood was pretty bad. Maybe he took a cheap home in exchange for having his luxuries inside?”
    “That could—”
    Their food arrived, and Brennan pushed the folder toward the window so the plates could be set down. Sausage links, hash browns, two buttermilk biscuits, a Belgian waffle, and a glass of O.J. for Brennan. Coffee and a plate of “short stack” pancakes were placed before Bishop. Brennan thought of making a height joke, but wisely reconsidered.
    “That could be true,” he continued, cutting into his food. “What does it say about relatives?”
    “Relatives?”
    “He could be a trust fund baby,” he said, shoving a piece of sausage into his mouth.
    “Your parents secretly run a trust fund, don’t