Silver Justice

The last thing she needed with all the other crap going on in her life was to get involved with a co-worker.

He’s asking you out for a drink, not suggesting you have sex on the table. Although it’s certainly been a while. And there are always going to be plenty of emergencies to contend with — if you wait until there aren’t any crises, you’ll be in your seventies before you see a naked man anywhere but in the movies. Her inner dialogue was not providing the kind of support she needed. This was crazy. The answer was no. Absolutely not.

“I’d have to get a babysitter.”

Was that her voice? Did she just say that?

“That’s what they’re for, right?” Richard’s eyes glittered. She could swear they did. Glittered like diamonds.

“I…I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Richard.” Finally. Whatever evil demon had temporarily possessed her had departed and sanity had returned.

“What? Getting a babysitter? I mean, you can’t just leave Kennedy locked in the attic. They frown on that sort of thing, even in New York — don’t they? I’m not up on all the local codes, but still…”

They both laughed nervously. The tension had been broken.

“I suppose one drink wouldn’t kill me. It’s forever since I’ve been anyplace but my kitchen at night. It might be good to get out.” Yes. And maybe he can dance for you. Take off that hot, binding shirt and swing it around his head, above washboard abs…

“Then it’s decided. You make a few calls, I’ll cancel my dinner at the United Nations, and we can go grab a bite and have a martini or something. I can even give you a ride to pick up Kennedy, if you want. Chauffeur service, with food dangled as a lure. How can you beat that?” Richard asked, and Silver had to laugh again. He did have a quirky charm.

And maybe he does have washboard abs. Judging by the rest of him, you never knew.

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she quickly rose and smoothed her blouse. “Okay, then. You talked me into it. Let me see what I can do. Are we done with all this for the day? Is there anything else that’s germane to the case you’ve been able to find?” Silver asked, struggling to deflect her inner tension.

“No, you just heard everything. But you have to admit, the more we look into this, the uglier it gets. It starts to look more plausible that this could be a concerted effort rather than a single perpetrator. I’m not saying that’s what’s happening. I’m saying that, given the players, you certainly can’t rule it out.”

“I know what you mean, but I’m not sold on the idea of The Regulator as a red herring. I won’t discount anything, but all along this has felt more, I don’t know, personal. Something about the way he’s carrying out the killings. Don’t ask me why I’m so convinced, but I am.” Silver realized as she finished that she sounded completely illogical.

“I happen to agree with you, Silver, although the group theory is certainly plausible. Tell you what. Let’s put this to bed for the evening and come back to it tomorrow, shall we? I don’t think we’re going to make any more progress today. I’m beat — I feel like I’m running on empty.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let me go make some calls. I’ll buzz you when I know for sure about the babysitter.”

Richard collected his papers and loosened his tie. “Okay. You know where I’ll be.”

Silver felt dizzy as he left her office. What had just happened? One minute they were discussing the world of financial terrorism and the next she’d been agreeing to dinner and drinks. It felt overwhelming. And crazy. Impulsive. Completely unlike her.

And right. It felt right.

It was as though part of her psyche had been spirited back to high school; butterflies of excitement and anticipation danced a tarantella in her stomach.

She hoped Sarah, her babysitter, was available on short notice.

Life had just gotten interesting.

Richard drove to the daycare, and after some awkward introductions, he ferried Silver and Kennedy home, fighting his way through the snarl of belligerent vehicles, obviously uncomfortable with the aggressive driving style of the New York streets. When they arrived at her flat, Silver agreed to meet him in an hour, and then she and Kennedy disappeared into the building in a swirl of hair and giggles.

He raced to his little apartment, took a quick shower, and changed into something more relaxed than his suit, then spent the balance of his time calling around to the few restaurants he’d heard of — with no success.

The traffic lights conspired to make him a few minutes late; he arrived to find her already waiting for him on the sidewalk, wearing jeans and a colorful blouse. She swung the door open and slid into the passenger seat.

He greeted her with his relaxed grin. “Kennedy all set?”

“You bet. She loves it when Sarah’s there because she can sit on the computer for hours, and all Sarah wants to do is watch TV and chat on her cell phone. It’s a symbiotic relationship. Sarah gets paid, and Kennedy gets to do what she enjoys…and I get to have a cocktail and some decent food. I hope you’ve picked a good place.”

“Actually, I bombed out on getting a reservation on short notice. But I’ve heard there are a slew of restaurants over by Union Square. Maybe we can get into one without having to pay a fortune to bribe the head waiter?”

“Beats me. You’ve probably eaten out more than I have. My evenings are spent slaving over a hot microwave and dealing with work I brought home.”

“Well, then we’re both in for a treat. My dining adventures have been confined to take-out Chinese and pizza from the places on my block. I do some of my better work at night. Always been like that, ever since my college days. I sort of got into the habit, and it stuck.”

Within eight minutes they’d found a parking lot that wasn’t full, and the second restaurant they tried had open tables — a cozy Italian bistro masquerading as ‘continental’ with a Mediterranean twist. They ordered drinks and took their time with the menu as the waiter dallied at the bar.

Once their cosmopolitans had arrived they made their dinner selection, and the waiter returned with a basket of bread and a ceramic bowl of garlic-infused oil. They dipped and munched, and Richard took a long appreciative sip of his drink before leaning back and letting out a sigh.

“I can’t tell you how good that tastes after a day like today.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” she said and took a pull on hers.

They made small talk as the appetizer arrived — something the menu referred to as Pan-Asian Italian fusion that seemed suspiciously like bruschetta with fresh ginger on top. Silver took a tentative bite and pronounced it delicious. Richard wasted no time digging in.

The background music changed from a vaguely French accordion-driven melody to Moroccan over a slow- grooving techno beat. The ambient lighting level was lowered to suit the hour, creating a warm amber glow. The second sip of her Cosmo tasted better than the first, and Silver felt herself relaxing.

Richard made a silent toast with his drink and then grinned. “So, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Cassidy, what’s your story? How did you get to be such a kick-ass crime fighter?” he asked.

She smiled. “A ‘kick-ass crime fighter’, you say? Wow. Kennedy will love that. I think you may have just coined her new nickname for me.” She set her drink down on the table. “My story? Boy. How much time do we have?”

“It’s your babysitter that’s on the clock. But from my standpoint, I’d say as long as it takes.”

“That’s very generous of you, but be careful what you wish for.” Her eyes flitted to the ceiling for a moment. “Let’s see. I was born in Maine, moved to New York to go to college — Columbia — and got my degree in business. I knew I wanted to be with the FBI since I was about sixteen years old. Don’t ask me why. That’s a whole other story. Anyhow, once I graduated, I applied to the Bureau and was accepted under a language program thirteen years ago…and the rest is history.”

“What do you speak?”

“Spanish. My mom was from El Salvador, so I grew up fluent.”

“Have you always been in Violent Crime?”

“No, I did my first eight in Organized Crime, then switched. What about you?” Silver was always uncomfortable talking about herself.