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“And as you’ve already pointed out, he’s got a record.”
“Which doesn’t automatically make him a bad guy. There are some people who believe that criminals can be rehabilitated, you know. Even ones who’ve been in prison.”
Qui
“You’re judgmental.”
He sat up and shoved a curl of inky hair off his forehead. “So now we’re going to fight about some scumbag of an ex-con? That’s just crazy.”
“For one thing, we’re not fighting. For another, what’s just crazy is you making a big deal out of the fact that I asked a simple question about a guy I saw on TV. I wondered if people knew he was an ex-con, that’s all. I wondered if he might not be a good businessman, anyway, and if he was, I wondered what he could tell me about-”
“A guy like that can’t tell you anything about anything, and if you were as smart as you pretend to be, you wouldn’t even think he could.”
“So now you’re saying I’m not smart.” That was enough to give me all the excuse I needed to slide out of bed. It was a hot, sticky night, but my emerald green satin wrap was nearby, and I slipped it on. “Maybe Mack Raphael is a bad guy. Guess what? I don’t care. Not really. But I don’t have to sit here and listen to you tell me who I can and can’t talk to. And I don’t have to put up with you telling me I’m stupid, either.”
“Raphael is a bad guy. Don’t you get it?” I noticed that Qui
It was as impassioned as I’d ever seen Qui
One leg tucked under me, I sat back down on the bed. “I didn’t know that,” I admitted. “He sounds pretty bad. Like the kind of guy who might murder somebody.”
Qui
What was more important to me, the sex or the information?
At that point, I wasn’t sure, I only knew I saw the chance for both slipping away. I rounded the bed so I could stand closer to Qui
Qui
“Raphael had nothing to do with what happened to Jefferson Lamar,” he said. “I don’t know why you’d even think that. Raphael’s name isn’t even mentioned in the file.”
“Which doesn’t mean-”
“It means plenty.” When he’d taken his pants off, he’d draped them over a chair, and he put them back on and zipped them, then did up his belt. “Jefferson Lamar was convicted back in 1985. Raphael was no more than a punk kid then.”
“Punk kids have been known to kill people.”
“All too true.” Qui
I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the Lamar case or the fact that now that he was dressed, it was obvious our night was going to end early, and not on the note either of us had expected. When Qui
“Raphael could have arranged for someone else to kill Vera Blaine for him,” I told Qui
He was just about to grab his shoulder holster and sling it on when he stopped cold. “Are you even listening to yourself?” he asked, and the look he gave me was so steely, I nearly backed down. Nearly. “You can’t get mixed up with a guy like Mack Raphael just because you’re trying to get information for some silly TV contest. If you think you can, you’re crazy.”
“I’m not getting mixed up with him. I’m not getting mixed up with anybody. I’m just looking for information, and if Raphael can give it to me-”
“Even if Mack Raphael could give you every bit of information you’ve ever wanted and if he served it up on a silver platter, I’d still say the same thing. Don’t talk to him. In fact, while I’m trying to talk some sense into you, let me add that you shouldn’t even go near him. Or think about him for that matter.”
“Why, because he’s a good-looking guy?”
Qui
“But if he knows something about how Vera Blaine died-”
“If he does or if he doesn’t, it doesn’t matter. Number one, because it’s none of your business. And number two, because you’re never going to find out, anyway.”
“Because you think I’m not smart enough.”
“Because I know people who cross Mack Raphael tend to end up dead.”
“Oh.” Reality check. I chewed on my bottom lip, wondering how I could find out more and not set Qui
Before he stepped out into the hallway, he turned to me. “Mind your own business,” he said.
“This is my business. Sort of.”
His hand still on the doorknob, he gave me one last chance to come clean. “Level with me.”
Only I couldn’t, could I?
I was still trying to find the words to explain when Qui
9
My love life was a mess, but when it came to my professional life-and by this, I don’t mean my work in the cemetery-I was in luck. The detective who headed the original murder investigation was a stickler for detail and incredibly organized. The file Qui
I took the file marked BLAINE, VERA-CLOSED to the cemetery with me the next day. Surprise, surprise… I don’t know how he managed, but Absalom had somehow a) intimidated, b) coerced, c) outright threatened, or d) all of the above, everyone on the team to actually work. By the time I got there, they were busy trimming overgrown hedges and pulling a ton of weeds. With that out of the way, and no other pressing responsibilities for the moment, I pretended I had TV show business to take care of and ducked into the mausoleum. Careful to keep far back from the hole in the floor, I sat down on the lawn chair one of my teammates had left there, pulled out the file, and got to work.