Belson had the cigar back in his mouth. He rolled it directly into the center of his mouth and talked around it.
”Why would he bring her?“
”Maybe it wasn’t mistaken identity,“ I said. ”Maybe it was a sign, just more harassment, like the hanged Jill Joyce doll.“
Belson nodded. ”Or maybe it’s all a fake. Maybe the whole Jill Joyce harassment is to make us think the wrong thing, and the murderer wanted to kill this stunt woman.“
”Babe Loftus,“ I said.
”Yeah.“
”Possible,“ I said. ”Kind of bizarre, though.“
”Like your scenario isn’t?“ Belson said.
I shrugged.
”Where’s Quirk?“ I said. ”This is a hot enough squeal to bring him out.“
Belson showed no expression. He had one of those permanent five o’clock shadows that no razor could successfully obliterate.
”Command staff meeting,“ Belson said. ”Strategies for improving police /community interface.“
”Honest to God?“ I said.
”Honest to God.“
Chapter 14
JILL looked at Hawk the way a mackerel eyes a minnow.
”Well,“ she said as Hawk walked across the Quiet Bar at the Charles. He had on black cowboy boots and an ankle-length black leather trench coat. The coat was open, the collar up, and a black turtleneck showed at the throat. His skin was maybe half a shade lighter than the leather coat, and his smooth head gleamed in the bar’s indirect lighting.
”You just wear those boots to be taller than me,“ I said.
”Taller than you anyway,“ Hawk said.
”Are not,“ I said.
”Better-looking, too,“ Hawk said.
”Aren’t you going to introduce us?“ Jill Joyce said. I did. Jill was sitting on a couch quietly, but as she looked at Hawk she seemed somehow to wiggle without moving.
”Well,“ she said, ”aren’t you something.“
”Un huh,“ Hawk said.
He sat on the couch beside Jill. The waitress appeared eagerly.
”Laphroig,“ Hawk said, ”straight, in a lowball glass.“
”Yes, sir,“ the waitress said and hurried off on her mission. She placed her order at the service end of the bar and glanced back at Hawk while she waited.
”Why didn’t you tell me about him,“ Jill said to me.
”I did. I told you he would look out for you while I was away and that he was almost as good as I was, and better than anyone else.“
”But you didn’t mention…“ Jill spread her hands in a voila gesture at Hawk.
”She means you didn’t tell her about me being a sexual icon.“
”You’re right,“ I said. ”I didn’t tell her that.“
”Are you almost as good as he is?“ Jill said. Like most things she said, it was larded with innuendo.
”Better,“ Hawk said.
”Really?“ Jill’s eyes were wide and excited. ”The other day he knocked down a great tall man, bing! bing! just like that.“ Jill made two darling little punching movements.
”Just like that?“ Hawk said.
”More or less,“ I said.
The waitress brought Hawk’s scotch and another white wine for Jill. They had learned her habits here and seemed to have mastered the technique of keeping her glass filled.
”Can you do that?“ Jill asked. She smiled at him, a TV Guide cover smile, over the rim of her wineglass and drank a bit.
”Don’t know about bing! bing!“ Hawk said.
Jill reached over and squeezed Hawk’s biceps. A moment of genuine surprise popped for only a moment into her eyes before the flirty TV-star cuteness slipped back in place.
”Whooooa,“ she said. Hawk stared at me.
