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"Hey, listen, Audie. I'm supposed to tell you that I'll be hanging out with you for the next couple of days at least. Qui
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you mean you're supposed to tell me? Did Qui
"No! No! That's not what I meant. Ah, shit." Sta
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Audie stuck her hand out into the summer night wind and inhaled the lake air. "Does Qui
Sta
Audie laughed. "No, I imagine he doesn't," she said softly. "Has he had a lot of girlfriends?"
Sta
"Fair enough."
"But not many. He's picky. The last one lasted about three years. I always assumed they'd get married, but she broke it off with him."
"Really?" Audie tried to hide her smile.
"She ran off to Miami with another guy."
"Oh."
They were quiet for a moment, and Audie leaned back against the headrest to watch the endless geometric blocks of light pass by, buildings clustered along the lakefront shoulder to shoulder in the night sky. "He's a good man, isn't he?"
"Qui
Audie shrugged. "I'm just trying to figure him out, I guess. Is he always so quiet? He just doesn't seem to talk very much when we're together."
Sta
"But I've seen him hammered and he can let it rip then, let me tell you. He gets all sappy and tells stories that don't have no endings as far as I can tell, and he sings those gut-wrenching Irish songs that make my skin crawl.
"And you definitely don't want to let him near his pipes when he's like that. God! The sound of those things makes me want to shoot myself in the head even when he's sober. But when he's hammered he can't play worth shit and it sounds like somebody's being tortured."
Audie stared at Sta
"What the hell are pipes?" she asked.
"Bagpipes." He turned toward her. "You don't know about his pipes?"
She laughed again. "Guess not. You going to fill me in?"
Sta
"Bagpipes?" Audie shook her head. "Like with a kilt and everything?"
"Oh, yeah. Whenever I give him hell about that, he tells me only real men have the balls to wear a skirt." He winced at his choice of words. "Sorry."
Audie laughed loudly. "Well, what do you know?" She took a few moments to try to imagine the masculine Stacey Qui
"So what's Garda mean?"
"Qui
"Oh."
They drove for several minutes in quiet. "Hey, Sta
"Mmm?"
"What about the women that Qui
Sta
"No. Not that I've ever seen, except maybe you," he said, giving her a shy glance. "You're pretty much the first one I've seen him interested in."
"He gave me a really nice present the other day. Did you know about that?"
Sta
"What?" Audie nearly jumped out of her seat. She stared at him. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"Oh, crap," Audie whispered, letting her head fall back against the seat. This was too bizarre, and she didn't know whether to be appalled or flattered-and wasn't that just perfect? Wasn't that the perfect gift from Stacey Qui
"Has he said anything to you about me?"
"He don't have to." Sta
Audie turned to him in the bright fluorescent light of the underground ramp and huffed with impatience. "And what is that, if I may ask?"
The detective sliced into Audie's assigned parking spot and cut the Porsche's engine. He gri
Qui
"Over here, Stace!"
Qui
"Good evening, Stacey." The bartender had already drawn his pint of Gui
"Matt! Good to see you. How have you been?"
"Grand. Just grand."
And Matt did look grand, Qui
Qui
"Is Da coming?" Pat asked.
"What? The two of us aren't good enough for you?" Michael edged over in the booth as Qui
"Move your wide ass," Qui
Then he winked across the table at Pat and settled in with a sigh of pleasure. "Da stayed a little late at practice tonight," Qui
"So is the band ready for CityPest?" Pat asked. "I hope to God you've got some new sets, because we're getting tired of the same old crap every year. Have pity on your fans, Stacey."
Qui
"Sure, Pat. We thought we'd do some gangsta rap this year. Maybe a few calypso tunes."
Pat and Michael snickered for a moment before they launched into their favorite pastime-arguing with each other. Qui
As he observed, he remembered how there'd been more than a few broken hearts in the neighborhood the day Patrick went into the seminary. It was as if God decided only one child would get the very best from the union of Patricia Stacey and James Qui