Dopplegangster Read Free Page A

is a standard part of my profession. When you’re suddenly thrown out of work, you have to get on the phone right away to start looking for another job and figure out how to keep paying the bills. No delays, no moping. Even if you’re flat on your back and crawling into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s at the exact same time you’re making those calls.”
    “So you were on the phone looking for work today?” he said in surprise. “On Sunday?”
    “It’s a twenty-four-seven city. A cop ought to know that.”
    “Good point.” He took the spoon from me and helped himself to another bite of ice cream as he asked, “Any luck yet?”
    “I don’t know. I had to leave messages with everyone.”
    “So bring your cell phone to dinner,” he suggested, “and let’s go out.”
    It was a generous offer. I’d have been tempted to strangle a date who spent half the evening on the cell phone, but he was evidently willing to put up with it under special circumstances.
    I considered it briefly, but I thought of the effort it would take to shower, get dressed, and primp for a nice evening out with a well-dressed man, and I felt exhausted. Then my stomach churned again, reminding me that eating a lot of ice cream when you’re upset isn’t always such a good idea.
    “I’m really sorry,” I said. “I just don’t feel up to it right now.”
    He looked disappointed but said, “Okay. I can understand that.”
    I felt terrible. A man who didn’t sulk under such circumstances was worth more than rubies. “I’ll make it up to you,” I promised. “But I’d be rotten company tonight. Now that I’ve made all my calls . . . now I just want to lie on my couch moping.”
    “So you’re saying sex is also off the menu tonight,” he guessed.
    I jumped a little, startled. It was the most direct he’d ever been about wanting to get me into bed.
    The blue of his eyes suddenly looked darker. “I had plans.”
    “And you dressed for the occasion,” I noted.
    His gaze dropped to my mouth. “I didn’t do that for you. I did that for the hostess at Raoul’s. I hear she’s hot.”
    “You were going to take me to Raoul’s?” It was a pricey restaurant in Soho with a reputation for good food and a romantic ambience. I felt even worse about canceling our date when I recalled, “Oh! You said you had something to celebrate tonight?”
    “Yeah.” He removed his arm from my shoulders. Leaning back against the cushions, he said, “But I see it’s not a good night for a celebration. So we’ll do it next time.”
    “Did you make reservations?”
    “I’ll cancel.”
    “But—”
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You didn’t know you’d lose your job today.”
    I rose to my feet. “I’ll get dressed. Er, shower and get dressed. And we’ll—”
    “Suddenly you’re feeling better?”
    “Well, no,” I admitted. “But I don’t want to spoil—”
    “Then let’s save it for a night when you’re in the mood.” He smiled and added, “For everything.”
    “I’m sorry. I feel terrible about this.”
    He waved aside my comment. “Forget it. Raoul’s is the wrong place to take a woman who isn’t hungry. If I’m going to pay that much for dinner, we have to eat every bite.”
    I smiled. “Spoken like a man on a cop’s salary.”
    The phone rang. I grabbed the receiver . . . but then I just stared at it without pressing the TALK button. I felt a sudden sense of looming dread.
    “Aren’t you going to answer it?” Lopez asked.
    “I’m afraid it’s my mother,” I said.
    “She calls on Sundays?”
    “No, she calls whenever things are going badly.”
    As the phone continued ringing, he said, “Don’t you want to talk to her?”
    “No, of course not.”
    “She’s not one of the people you called today?” he asked.
    “Good God, no!”
    He blinked at my tone. “Then how does she know things are going badly?”
    “I’ve never figured that out,” I said. “She just has this uncanny sixth sense.