“Nope,” I lied.
Lauren leaned forward. “Then there’s nothing to the rumor about that shooting in Sherman Oaks-”
“You want to talk shop, take a hike,” I said.
“But-”
“I’m serious. Talk about somethin’ else. Anything else.”
“Okay. You married, Kane?”
“Anything but that.”
Lauren nodded knowingly. “Difficulties in the relationship department? Not surprising. Most cops I know have trouble at home.”
“What about you?” I countered. “Have a little spat with your girlfriend?”
“Melanie’s a friend from work. I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re insinuating. It would solve a lot of problems, though.”
“Glad you think so,” I said. “By the way,” I added grudgingly, “I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure to reveal your source on the profile stuff. Thanks for keeping your mouth shut.”
“I honor my word,” said Lauren. “How about you? Did you follow through on the ideas we discussed?”
“The supercop thing?”
“And getting me into one of the task force briefings.”
I tossed down half of my bourbon. “I brought up your supersleuth idea. It got kicked around, then finally dropped.”
“What about the other?”
I finished my drink in one more swallow. “Nope,” I answered, absently noting that the evening had progressed to the point where I had to speak deliberately to avoid slurring. “Didn’t even bother. No way in hell they were gonna buy it.”
“But-”
“It’s not even an option. End of discussion.”
“Then let’s talk about something else. What’s your wife do?”
“You can be real irritating, you know that?”
“It’s a gift.”
Despite my ill humor, I cracked a smile, recalling that recently I had said something similar.
“C’mon, what’s she do?” Lauren persisted, encouraged by the break in my mood. “I’m interested in knowing what type of woman would put up with you.”
“She’s a musician. Plays cello for the Los Angeles Philharmonic.”
Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. You’re full of surprises. Any children?”
“Three. They all adore me.”
“I’ll bet,” Lauren laughed. “I have a daughter myself.”
“Nine years old.”
“How’d you know that?”
“You told me that day you were spoutin’ off in the parking garage. You said you were a single mother with no social life and a few more wrinkles than you had last year, a three-bedroom condo with a leaky roof and a big mortgage, and a nine-year-old daughter you don’t have time for.”
Lauren’s mouth dropped open. “That sounds verbatim.”
“It is.”
“How…?”
I shrugged. “I have a good memory.”
“You remember conversations word-for-word?” Lauren asked dubiously.
“And a lotta other things I’d rather forget.”
“Really? What else did I say?”
“You said that sometimes you wake up in the morning and wonder what you’re doing with your life,” I answered without thinking. “You asked if it sounded familiar.”
“And what did you say?”
“I didn’t.”
Lauren stared. “You’re a strange man, Kane.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The waitress returned with our drinks. After she departed, Lauren picked up where she’d left off. “How’d you and your wife get together? I mean, there’s quite a difference between you. She plays with the Philharmonic, while you’re out there on the streets…”
“… wallowing in the gutter?”
“I was about to say making the city safe for the rest of us.”
“Sure you were,” I said. “And as a matter of fact, Kate would like nothing better than for me to quit the Force. I’m thinkin’ about it, too. Maybe I’ll take an early-out.”
“What would you do then?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. If I quit, I’d probably just sit around somewhere in a rocker drooling on myself.”
“With your pecker hanging out because you can’t remember to zip your fly,” Lauren noted somberly. “A pathetic image.”
“That’s some mouth you’ve got on you, Van Owen. Ever consider working for Hallmark?”
“I grew up with two older brothers,” Lauren replied with a smile. Then, “So how did you get into law enforcement?”
“My dad was a cop.”
“Was? Is he retired now?”
“He died in the line of duty.”
Lauren’s smile faded. “Sorry. I didn’t-”
“It’s okay. It happened a long time ago.”
“Your mom still alive?”
“Yep. She remarried. Still lives in Austin.”
“A Texas boy. I should have known.” Lauren gazed at me pensively. “Tell me something, Kane. And tell me the truth. You love being a police detective, don’t you?”
I thought a moment. “The truth? Except for putting up with the bullshit that probably goes with any job, yeah. I do.”
“So keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Odd advice, coming from you.”
“Not really,” said Lauren. “To people like you and me, careers are more important than family relationships or a good love life. You’re a cop because you’re good at it and that’s what you want to do. And no matter what you say, you’ll keep doing it as long as you can. Hell, I don’t blame you. Although you may not think so, I have a lot of respect for you guys in blue.”
“About as much as I have for the media.”
“That’s not fair,” Lauren retorted. “Whether you approve or not, the public has a right to know. Besides, television news isn’t all ‘murder and mayhem at eleven.’ Granted, we often deserve criticism, but there are a lot of good things happening in broadcast journalism, too.”
“Name one.”
Lauren bristled. “Despite your uninformed opinion, it’s obvious to any thinking person that broadcast journalism has a pervasive influence on society. We have the power to inform, enlighten, and empower. And I believe we’re working toward doing all those things, and improving as time goes on.”
“Right.”
Ignoring my cynicism, Lauren continued. “The world’s shrinking, Kane, and we in the news media are playing a part. As we become a global community-”
“So how are things better now that we can get live shots of bombs dropping in the Mideast and tanks rolling into undefended cities?”
“You’re missing the point. The only way to change things is to-”
