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afternoon, giving time for Tom to visit a jewelry store for a very special purchase.
    “I know you’re off, but you’re lead Detective on this one, Tommy. Can you sneak out without Joan waking up?”
    “Joan is up,” Joan said. “Hello, Roy.”
    Obviously Tom also had the volume too loud.
    “Hey, Joan,” Roy said as Tom held the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker. “Sorry about this. It’s a big one.”
    “How’s Trish?” Joan asked.
    “She’s, uh, next to me right now.”
    “Hi, Joan,” Trish said.
    “Want to grab some breakfast later? Maybe do some shopping?” Joan asked. “The asshole cops we’re dating won’t be around.”
    “How about nine? We can go to Yolk in the South Loop, then walk the Mag Mile. I’ll bet your fella would love to buy you some shoes. Roy’s gonna buy me some, right Roy?”
    “Anything for you, baby.” Roy had a sultry baritone and sounded a lot like Isaac Hayes.
    “Anything for you, baby.” Tom repeated to Joan. He didn’t sound like a soul legend. Tom sounded like Michael J. Fox when his mother tried to kiss him in Back to the Future .
    “See you later,” Joan said, then purposely turned around in bed, giving Tom her back. She was still naked from earlier, so Tom didn’t mind the snubbing because the view was nice.
    “Where’s the scene?” Tom asked.
    Roy gave Tom the address, and Tom reached out and trailed a finger along Joan’s shoulder, down her side, to her hip.
    “See you in twenty,” Tom said.
    He hung up, and snuggled up to Joan, kissing her neck.
    “You’re ditching me, and you think you’re getting a quickie first?” Joan said, snorting.
    “Hey, I’m buying you shoes.”
    “You don’t have to buy me anything, Tom.”
    “Good. Because my cards are maxed, and you earn ten times what I do.”
    She turned around to look at him, her eyes clear in the dark of his bedroom. “Long distance relationships aren’t easy.”
    “I know.” That was the reason Tom’s credit cards were near the limit. Travelling to Los Angeles six times a year.
    “Neither of us are ever going to quit our jobs.”
    “I know,” he said, kissing her chin.
    “This is supposed to be our time. And you’re working.”
    “You do the same thing. Last time I was in La-La Land we were having a romantic dinner at Bestia and you invited Johnny Depp to join us.”
    “That’s because you stood up and yelled Oh my god it’s Johnny Depp tell him to join us !”
    “ Edward Scissorhands is my favorite movie. I always cry at the end.”
    “You’re not taking this seriously. For our relationship to work, we need together time.”
    “I agree.” He kissed her neck.
    “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Joan said.
    “I can finish. Can you finish?”
    “I don’t know.” Joan sighed, then her lips met his. “I guess we’re going to find out.”
    •          •          •
    After they’d both finished, Tom dressed and drove and arrived at the crime scene. He held an insulated cup of coffee which advertised a Bruce Willis movie Joan had produced. The victim’s neighborhood was upscale, boutiques and cafes and wine shops. The apartments no doubt cost more than Tom paid monthly for the mortgage on his tiny, single-level townhouse in Norwood Park. He parked in an alley behind a patrol car, next to a dumpster that was filled to the brim, and made his way past the police line.
    “You had time to make coffee?” Roy asked, eyeing it enviously. Roy looked a lot like Richard Roundtree, but bald. Tom, in contrast, looked a lot like Thomas Jefferson. He even had the longish, reddish ponytail, which was getting to be a pain to brush every day.
    “Joan made me coffee after sex,” Tom said. “You didn’t get coffee after sex?”
    “Didn’t get coffee or sex. She took my Visa. Trish don’t like early morning homicide calls. She revenge shops.”
    “Ouch.”
    “No prob. I reported the card lost on the way over.”
    “Won’t that make