7
Herbie was awakened by the smell of bacon frying. He pried open an eye, stumbled into the bathroom, brushed his teeth and hair, and got into a robe.
He was salivating as he arrived in the kitchen and found her setting the table by the window. “Good morning,” he said.
“First kitchen I’ve seen in New York that has a window that doesn’t overlook an air shaft,” she said, raking eggs out of a skillet onto the plates as two English muffins popped out of the toaster.
“It’s a penthouse,” Herbie said. “The air shaft surrounds the apartment.”
She recovered the bacon from the microwave, buttered the muffins, poured orange juice, set the coffeepot on the table, and sat down. “Join me?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Herbie sat down and tasted the eggs. “Wow,” he said. “What’s your secret?”
“If I told you my secrets, they wouldn’t be secret.”
Herbie was eating too fast to talk.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.
“Mmmmf?”
“You’re thinking, as my father would put it, ‘How did I fall into this pot of jam? How could I meet such a beautiful woman, experience the best sex of my life, and have the best breakfast ever, all in such a short time and with so little effort?’”
Herbie swallowed. “You’re a witch,” he said, then filled his mouth again.
Harp smiled. “There you have it. Tell me, how did you get rich enough at the age of thirtyish to live like this? Inherited wealth?”
“I inherited it from the New York State Lottery.”
Her mouth fell open.
“I kid you not.”
“So, you blew it on fast living, the way lottery winners always seem to?”
Herbie shook his head. “I got smart before it was all gone. Now I actually make more than I spend.”
“A good practice,” she replied, sipping her coffee. “I’m there, myself, and I like it.”
“Are you getting interesting work?” Herbie asked.
“I am. I like investigation, especially when people are trying to hide things, which they usually are. I’m a whiz on the computer, and that helps. I’m an urban girl, and I don’t really like fresh air all that much.” She cocked her head. “Ever been married?”
“Once,” Herbie said.
“How long?”
“Let’s say it was counted in months, not years. She and her brother ran off with a huge sum of money stolen from their father’s business and moved to a safe haven in the Pacific.”
“Didn’t she invite you?”
“Yes, but I have this thing: I can be sneaky, but I’m not dishonest. I wouldn’t live on money stolen from somebody else. Mind you, I got a very nice divorce settlement, and I don’t mind having that in the bank.”
“How do you get a divorce settlement after being married only a few months?”
“By getting it before no-fault divorce was signed into law in New York State. She didn’t really mind signing the money away, since it had already been sequestered by the feds, pending settlement of the firm’s losses. My attorney managed to get it unsequestered. You ever been married?”
“Yeah. I married a guy I met when we were both at the Police Academy. Lasted a little over two years. We were working different shifts in different precincts and hardly ever saw each other. He was a sweet guy, but not smart. He was on the take a week after he got his shield, and I couldn’t live with that.”
“You were smart to get out.”
She shrugged. “I guess. He’s doing time now, along with a dozen other guys who got caught when Internal Affairs busted them. I had to loan him money for a lawyer.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Herbie said.
Harp shrugged. “I just chalked it up as life experience. I decided to make more objective judgments of people, instead of being hooked on charm.”
“I noticed that last night,” Herbie said. “I didn’t have time to be charming.”
She smiled. “You were more charming than you realized. Honesty is charming. Beats bullshit every time.”
Not far away, Dino Bacchetti and Vivian DeCarlo were sitting up in bed, naked, eating toast and drinking coffee.
“Viv,” Dino said, “how many nights have you spent here in the past three months?”
She smiled. “Most of them, I guess.”
“Just about all of them, and yet you haven’t moved any clothes here. Not to speak of.”
Viv brushed crumbs off her breasts. “I’ve got a little problem, Dino.”
“Let me help you solve it.”
“There’s something I can’t figure out.”
“Cough it up, you’ll feel better.”
“I’ve always thought you were an honest cop, and I admired that. But this apartment-how can you afford the rent on a lieutenant’s salary? It’s gotta be ten grand a month.”
“I don’t rent, I own. The maintenance is two grand a month. I can afford that.”
“Your father ran a candy store. Where’d you get the money to buy it?”
“Honestly,” he replied.
“Honestly, how? Come on, help me out here.”
“Here’s the short version: I was married to a rich woman who had a rich father. She also made a lot of money in investments while we were married. When she walked, her old man insisted that she make a settlement, and I got a very nice check. Everybody was happy, and since it was a division of marital property, there was no tax. I spent a chunk of it on this apartment.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
“Good, now why don’t you move in with me?”
“Well, Rosie couldn’t pay our rent all by herself. She’d need time to get another roommate.”
“Tell you what: I’ll pay your share until she finds somebody,” Dino suggested.
Viv brightened. “Yeah, that would work.”
Dino dug in his bedside drawer and came up with a card. “This is a guy from my old neighborhood who has a carting business. Pack up your stuff and call him. Tell him to send me the bill.”
Viv leaned over and kissed him on the ear. “I’ll do it this weekend.”
“Then we’ll both feel better,” Dino said. He set down his coffee cup and got a leg over. “Let’s celebrate,” he said.
So they celebrated.
8
Mike arrived at The Arrington’s front gate, where a security guard checked his driver’s license photo and gave him directions to the executive offices.
“Don’t stop anywhere along the way,” the guard told him. “They expect you at the office in three minutes.”
Mike nodded, then put his car in gear and drove up the hill. He found a parking space next to a dumpster overflowing with building material scrap and went inside. A woman at a makeshift desk in the hallway pointed at a door. “In there,” she said, checking his name off a list and noting the time.
There was a Sharpie-lettered sign on the door: “Director of Food and Beverages.” Mike knocked and walked
