Painted Ladies

me.

“How can you eat and drink like that,” I said, “and continue to look like you do.”

She smiled.

“Sex burns a lot of calories,” she said.

“Wow,” I said.

She smiled.

“I’ll help you with this any way I can. I’m a good lawyer, for a girl.”

“ ‘For a girl,’ ”I said. “When you were prosecuting in Norfolk, them defense lawyers used to call you Rita Shark.”

“They were referring to my sleek and sinuous grace,” she said. “But I mean it. I don’t like people trying to kill you. If I can help, I will. We have some pretty good resources at Cone, Oakes.”

“And you’re one of them,” I said.

She cut off a smallish bite of wienerschnitzel and chewed and swallowed and smiled at me again.

“I know,” she said.

32

After lunch, Rita went back to work, and I went to see Quirk. Belson was with him in his office.

“Got an ID on your two assailants,” Quirk said.

“And they are?” I said.

“Two Dutch nationals,” Quirk said. “Mercenaries. What’s the names, Frank?”

“One’s Joost. The other one’s Van Meer,” Belson said. “You care which is which?”

“Not right now,” I said.

“Joost is thirty-four, Van Meer is thirty-five. They weren’t in our system, so we tried Interpol and there they were.”

“You dig that up?” I said to Belson.

“Yep.”

“Frank Belson,” I said, “international detective.”

“Long-distance phone caller,” Belson said.

“And you’re still a sergeant?”

“They don’t promote you for doing a good job,” Belson said. “They promote you for scoring on the lieutenant’s test.”

“So take the test,” I said.

“He won’t,” Quirk said.

“No?” I said.

“I am what I am, and if that’s good, I should be promoted. I’m not taking no fucking test,” Belson said.

Quirk grinned.

“Frank’s a great cop,” Quirk said. “But nobody’s arguing he ain’t a hard-on.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone argue that,” I said.

“You want to hear about these two guys you killed?” Belson said. “Or you and the captain want to keep having fun?”

“Joost and Van Meer,” I said. “Tell me.”

“Served in the Royal Dutch Army. Airborne brigade. Fought in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

“There were Dutch troops in Iraq and Afghanistan?”

“What am I,” Belson said, “Meet the Fucking Press? That’s what Interpol told me.”

“Learn something every day,” I said.

“Probably not in your case,” Belson said. “They got out, served with the Israeli army, some kind of commando unit. Maybe covert ops. Got out of that and started a private security agency, Joost and Van Meer. Then they went off Interpol’s radar.”

“Why is Interpol interested?” I said.

“They’re wanted for questioning in the murder of some French guy, owned an art gallery,” Belson said with no expression.

“Art,” I said.

“Yep,” Belson said.