“Thanks, Kenny.”
“My pleasure.”
Matt considered for a moment having a room-service breakfast, but decided against it, but not because of the thought he had on the way to the dining room, which was that after he ate a leisurely breakfast, he would call Detective Lassiter and suggest that if she was now awake, they had work to do. He would then meet her in the lobby, and she could have a McMuffin and canned orange juice for breakfast at the McDonald’s on their way to Daphne.
She came into the dining room a minute after he took a table, even before the waiter had brought coffee.
Jesus, that’s a good-looking woman!
“Good morning,” Matt said.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” Olivia said. “May I?” she asked, indicating a chair.
“Of course.”
He smiled at her. She smiled back, but her smile was a momentary curl of her lips, completely devoid of anything resembling warmth.
Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it. Screw you.
Olivia sat down.
“What we’re going to do this morning is take statements from Colonel Richards and Mr. Galloway,” Matt said, and then, without waiting for a reply, devoted his entire attention to the breakfast menu.
Detective Payne had just about finished his Belgian waffles with strawberries and cream, which he had ordered to accompany his chipped beef over toast with poached eggs, and glanced to see if Detective Lassiter was finished with her whole-wheat toast, when he thought he heard his name being spoken.
He looked toward the headwaiter’s table in time to see the woman behind it nod in his direction, the nod guiding a young man in a business suit toward him.
“Sergeant Payne?” the young man asked.
Matt nodded.
“My name is Roswell Bernhardt, Sergeant. I’m an attorney. Specifically, I’m Mr. Homer C. Daniels’s attorney.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, counselor, but I don’t think I should be talking to you,” Matt said.
“I understand,” Bernhardt said. “Certainly. But what I was hoping you could do is give me the name of someone in your district attorney’s office with whom I could speak.”
“I wouldn’t know what name to give you, Counselor, in the D.A.’s office. Except for that of the D.A. herself. That’s Mrs. Eileen McNamara Solomon.”
“I understood someone’s on the way here,” Bernhardt said, then added. “Sergeant Kenny told me that.”
If Kenny told this guy my name and where to find me, and that somebody’s coming, he must like him. What the hell!
“I’m going to meet someone from the D.A.’s office at the airport, Mr. Bernhardt…”
“Someone with the authority to discuss a plea bargain?”
“… at half past twelve,” Matt went on. “I don’t know who, or what authority he or she might have. But if you’d like, if you give me your card, I’ll pass it on, and tell whoever it is you’d like to speak with him/her.”
Bernhardt produced a card, gave it to Matt, thanked him profusely, and left.
“I wonder what that was all about?” Olivia asked.
“I really have no idea,” Matt said. “Are you about finished with your breakfast?”
She stood up and walked away and waited by the head-waiter’s table until he had settled the bill.
“If you’ll give me the keys to the car, please, I’ll put my luggage into it,” she said.
He wordlessly handed her the keys, then went to his room, packed, and then settled the bill. He made no attempt to rush.
When he got into the Mustang, she didn’t speak.
Jesus, she’s good-looking.
Is she going to stay pissed all day?
For good?
That seems a distinct possibility.
Well, if that bitchy, irrational behavior last night was an indicator of the future, maybe that’s not such an all- around bad thing.
' ’Tis better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all,” as they say.
You don’t believe that for a minute, and you know it.
Just keep your mouth shut, and maybe she’ll cool off. Or warm up.
A familiar face came through the revolving doors into the persons-meeting-passengers area, but it was not that of Steven Cohen, Esq., but rather that of Michael J. O’Hara.
“Sherlock goddamn Holmes in the flesh!” Mickey greeted them. “And the beauty with the beast!”
“I won’t ask what brings you to the Redneck Riviera, Mickey,” Matt began.
“What did you say? ‘The Redneck Riviera’?”
Matt nodded. “That’s what they call it.”
“Great! I’m going to do a long piece, and that’s great color.”
“But frankly,” Matt went on, “I was expecting Steve Cohen or somebody else from the D.A.’s office.”
“They’re in the cheap seats,” Mickey said. “They’ll be off in a minute.”
He turned to Olivia.
“Stanley said to tell you he’s sorry as hell about the Ledger and that Phil Donaldson asshole, and that he’ll try to make it up.”
“Stanley?”
“Stanley Coleman, aka-”
“That’s very kind of Mr. Colt, but not necessary,” Olivia said.
“Who’s ‘they,’ Mick, as in ‘they’ll be off’?” Matt asked.
O’Hara turned and pointed.
Steven Cohen, Esq., and Lieutenant Jason Washington were about halfway down a long column of arriving economy-class passengers.
“I didn’t expect the boss,” Matt said.
“They don’t want any mistakes made with this one. For your sake, Matty, I really hope this guy is the one you’re looking for.”
“He is, Mick. I’m sure. How did you find out?”
“A little Irish bird named Denny told me.”
“Welcome to the Redneck Riviera, boss,” Matt said. “Hello, Mr. Cohen.”
“By calling me ‘Mister,’ Matt, are you implying I’m not welcome in the… what did you say-‘Redneck Riviera’?” Cohen replied, putting out his hand.
“I am really delighted to see you. And yeah, that’s what it’s called. They’ve got a really spectacular seashore. Ol-Detective Lassiter and I saw it when we drove over from Pensacola. ”
Cohen offered his hand to Olivia.
“Matt says he’s sure this is the doer,” Mickey said.
“I really hope so,” Cohen said.
“Well, let us go see this fellow,” Washington said. “Mick has reserved a car.”
“The chief of police will be available,” Matt said.
“Perhaps after we check into the hotel,” Washington said. “Mick’s made reservations for us at the Marriott. Is that where you are?”
“No, sir,” Matt said, looking smugly at Olivia. “We’re in the Eight Dollar Motel right in Daphne. Detective Lassiter thought the Marriott was a little too rich for us.”
“Actually, it’s the Nine Dollar Inn, Sergeant,” Detective Lassiter corrected him.
“Actually, it’s the $37.50 motel, after you pay up front and they give you the AAA discount,” Matt said. “But what the hell.”
They collected their luggage and went to the Hertz counter, where a Lincoln Town Car awaited Mr. Michael J.
