she pointed out. âFor a minute there, I was worried, but it all worked out. Better than I expected, really, because I had a chance to ride in aâ Do you still call them paddy wagons?â
Heâd been so sure heâd seen everything. Heard everything. With his temper straining at the bit, he spoke through clenched teeth. âTwo hookers are dead. Two who worked that area.â
âI know,â she said quickly, as if that explained it all. âThat was one of the reasons I chose it. You see, I plan to have Jadeââ
âIâm talking about you,â he interrupted in a voice that had her wincing. âYou. Some bubbleheaded hack writer who thinks she can strut around in spandex and a half a ton of makeup, then go home to her nice neighborhood and wash it all off.â
âHack?â It was the only thing she took offense to. âLook, copââ
â You look. You stay out of my territory, and out of those slut clothes. Do your research out of a book.â
Her chin shot out. âI can go where I want, wearing what I want.â
âYou think so?â There was a way to teach her a lesson. A perfect way. âFine.â He rose, tugged the tote out of her hands, then took a firm grip on her arm. âLetâs go.â
âWhere?â
âTo holding, babe. Youâre under arrest, remember?â
She stumbled in the three-inch heels and squawked, âBut I just explainedââ
âI hear better stories before breakfast every day.â
âYouâre not going to put me in a cell.â Bess was sure of it. Positive. Right up until the moment the bars closed in her face.
Â
It took about ten minutes for the shock to wear off. When it did, Bess decided it wasnât such a bad turn. She could be furious with the copâwhoever he wasâbut she could appreciate and take advantage of the unique opportunity heâd given her. She was in a holding cell with several other women. There was atmosphere to be absorbed, and there were interviews to be conducted.
When one of her cellmates informed her that she was entitled to a phone call, she demanded one. Pleased with the progress she was making, she settled back on her hard cot to talk to her new acquaintances.
It was thirty minutes later when she looked up and spotted her friend and cowriter Lori Banes, standing beside a uniformed policeman.
âBess, you look so natural here.â
With a grin, Bess popped up as the guard unlocked the door. âItâs been great.â
âHey!â one of her cellmates called out. âIâm telling you that Vickiâs a witch, and Jeffrey should boot her out. Ameliaâs the right woman for him.â
Bess sent back a wink. âIâll see what I can do. Bye, girls.â
Lori didnât consider herself long-suffering. She didnât consider herself a prude or a stuffed shirt. And she said as much to Bess as they walked through the corridors, up the stairs and back into the lobby area outside the squad room. âBut,â she added, pressing fingers to her tired eyes. âThereâs something that puts me off about being woken up at 2:00 a.m. to come bail you out of jail.â
âSorry, but itâs been great. Wait until I tell you.â
âDo you know what you look like, dear?â
âYep.â Unconcerned, Bess craned her neck. The chair behind Alexâs desk was empty. âI had no idea that so many of the working girls watched the show. But they do work nights, mostly. Uh, excuse meâ¦â She caught the sleeve of one of New Yorkâs finest as he walked by. âThe officer who uses that desk?â
The cop swallowed the best part of a bite of his pastrami sandwich. âStanislaski?â
âWhew. Thatâs a mouthful. Is he still around?â
âHeâs in Interrogation.â
âOh. Thanks.â
âCome on, Bess, weâve got to pick up your