Pilate's Key (excerpt from the novel)

Chapters 7-9

CHAPTER SEVEN

Pilate had no illusions or preconceived notions about Officer Righetti. She was nice and certainly very attractive, but she was simply to function as a conduit to information on the Hog's Snout murder. He had to find out what was up with that pink chip.

"Is she…research?" Simon asked. The query hung in the space between Pilate's ears.

At the Green Parrot, he nearly failed to recognize Kay Righetti. Instead of her uniform, she was attractively garbed in a green linen blouse, khaki pants, and sandals. Her hair was down, brushing against her shoulders. She was seated at a table by the bar, but with uncommon hospitality, she rose when Pilate walked in.

"Well, hello, Officer," he said smiling.

She blinked. "Oh, Mr. Pilate, please call me Kay."

"Mr. Pilate? You call me ‘Mr.’ and expect me not to call you 'officer'?"

She blushed and rolled her eyes, signaling the waitress. "I'm going to ignore that comment and have another drink."

"What’s your poison?" Pilate asked, not sure yet if she was an umbrella drink kind of gal.

"Gin and tonic." She pinched a wedge of lime from the glass and stuck it in her mouth, sucking it gently.

"Make it two," he told the waitress.

He looked at the off-duty cop, and she smiled at him with sea-blue eyes and lime-green teeth.

"Sorry," she said, taking the lime out of her mouth. "I love limes, especially the gin-soaked kind."

"Well, I'm flattered you feel comfortable enough to, uh—how can I put this?—to suck fruit in front of me."

She smiled, and this time her teeth shone in two perfectly pearly, perfectly straight rows. "Well, I figured if you really did what the papers say you did, you're an okay guy."

"The media does lie, you know,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

"True."

The waitress brought the drinks, breaking Kay's train of thought.

He held his up to toast. "Here's to law enforcement."

"To law enforcement and the writers who save their asses from time to time," she said.

He smiled as they clinked glasses. "So, Officer Kay, you from around here?"

"No, not at all. I'm from Caledonia, New York, a small town near Rochester."

"Farmer's daughter, eh?"

"Guilty as charged," she said.

"So what brought you here?"

"That’s a long, boring story, I’m afraid,” she said. "Let's just say I was chasing somebody."

"A crook?"

"Yes he was.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and her smile was charmingly lopsided. "He was definitely that."

"Most of the people here seem like they landed here after running away from something,” Pilate said.

"Yeah, that's why most people who live here aren’t from around here. They're all on the lam."

"So, anyway, did you catch Mr. Crook?" He sipped his drink and fought the urge to smoke after the look she’d given him back when he’d first mentioned it at the scene of the crime.

"Yup." She looked out over the restaurant. "And he set me free."

"Wow. There's a bit of poet in you, copper."