Tension gripped the next few days. Marian Jasper-Smilley must have departed with quite a bit of money on her, because her bank account, her savings account, and her credit cards all remained completely inactive. Neither Mike nor John said it, though John knew they were both thinking it: What if Clay had caught up with her and murdered her?
John caught another homicide, a drug-related murder in Hillside Court—the only large city public housing project south of the James. Unlike many drug-related murders in the projects, this one had a couple of people willing to come forward with information, and John had a solid suspect behind bars within twenty-four hours. Savonn, Trish, Solly, and especially Mike, all sort of rolled their eyes and joked about the famous Robin luck. Arlene didn't do that anymore—the famous Robin luck improved her stats.
Without a hit on Smilley's bank accounts or credit cards, John and Mike were back to the only other angle they had thought of—Julie's modeling portfolio, and whether it was known by anyone that Clay actually had a copy. Weak, but it was all they had. Although the twenty minutes they spent at the local modeling agency—the largest in the state and an affiliate of Wilhelmina—was nice in terms of the eye candy going in and out of the building, no one there knew anymore who had any portfolios of Julie. Dead models didn't generate income, and a lot of portfolio-browsing by potential clients was done online now, anyway.
On his way out, an angular brunette at the front desk, who reminded him a little of Lizzie—in pictures he'd seen of Lizzie with her hair long—looked up at him through a wave of hair that hung sexily over one eye. "Is Lizzie back from LA? Did you hear from her yet?"
"No, she's back late tonight," said John.
For answer the brunette gave him a smile that almost made John think she was flirting with him.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, John checked his watch. Lizzie was due to land around ten p.m. If he got right on the road after work, he'd have just enough time to drive to Hampton and change out the Clay listening tape, then swing by the airport and pick Lizzie up from her flight. If there were no traffic backups.
He decided to chance it anyway. He could always take Route 60 back if he had to.
***
He pulled up in front of the airport more or less on time, his butt falling asleep from three hours of almost straight driving. Rain had postponed all the interstate construction for tonight, but as he drove into the airport, he ran into construction that was twice as aggravating and confusing. He missed the drive that stopped in front of the terminal the first time he drove in and had to drive around a second time.
Finally he pulled up in front of the terminal to find a few people standing under the awning, peering anxiously through raindrops for their rides. Lizzie saw his car and started forward, dragging her suitcase on wheels behind her.
John leaned over and popped the passenger door open. "Sorry I'm a little late," he said. "I got lost in all the construction."
"No biggie," she said, stowing her suitcase in the back seat. "I missed my suitcase anyway and thought baggage lost it. I finally found it."
She leaned over for a kiss. John kissed her and pulled out so other cars could move up. "How was the flight?"
Little-girl excitement turned handsprings in her voice. He looked over and saw her eyes sparkling in the dark. "Fi-ine..."
"What?" He reached the as-yet unmolested stretch that brought them out to Lewis Road and suppressed a sigh of relief.
He looked over at her and she started bouncing in her seat. "Remember when you were asking me if I got a movie role?"
She looked so excited it had to be the truth. He smiled. "Yeah?"
"Well, we were working on the commercial and that director just so happens to be friends with a casting director and that guy happened to come over while we were filming and ..."
John stopped at the light, reached over, and shook her knee. "Come on, give it up!"
"I have an audition for a role in his next film! It's going to be one of those space-and-special-effects movies. It's only a bit part, but it's a movie role, Johnny! A movie role!" She bounced up and down again. "They liked me for it because I'm going to be known from the commercial and the fan film. The character is sort of the same kind of character. Like casting Marina Sirtis in Men in Black. Or Brent Spiner in Independence Day."
John frowned. "They didn't cast Marina Sirtis in Men in Black. That was Linda Fiorentino."
"I know, because Marina Sirtis was their first choice and she turned it down! Fortunately, I would never do something that dumb."
"Oh, my God, Lizzie! This is tremendous!" John turned left toward a pancake restaurant at the intersection and pointed. "Hey, it's Friday, looks like Aunt Sarah's is open late. You want to stop for something to eat?"
"Yeah, I am kind of hungry. I had a little sandwich before I got on the plane in LA, but that was a while ago."
John pulled into the pancake restaurant and they dodged raindrops. At least the blistering summer heat had cooled down a bit. He took her arm and ushered her inside.
The restaurant was half full of late-night snackers and the Friday night post-movie crowd, a lot of them younger couples and pairs of couples. Lizzie took her wet jacket off as they waited to be seated, and as the hostess showed them to a booth, heads turned and eyes followed them back. She was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but they were pretty tight jeans and a low-cut top with three buttons, a yellow that made her hazel eyes glow.
They ordered coffees and Lizzie opened her menu and sat watching him over the top of it, little raindrops clinging to her dark curls. Her hair was actually past her chin now.
"When do you have to fly back out for your audition?" John asked. Should he get into that other topic now or later? he wondered. This was a public place, which made it less appropriate. But it might discourage crying or some kind of angry scene, and that stood very much in favor of bringing the issue up here.
"A few days," said Lizzie. "I'd have stayed out there, but I have a ticket back out, and it's cheaper than five days in a hotel room in L.A. I don't have any acting training and the agency is setting me up with a local actor they rep who's had a lot of credits in some big movies and TV, and teaches all their acting classes. He's gonna try to work with me and get me ready to audition, at least. I don't expect I'm going to do all that great, really, but—" She bounced in her seat again. "Just to even get scouted for this! Oh, my God!" She squinched her eyes and pretended to pull her hair out. "I'm so nervous!"
"You're gonna go all Hollywood," said John, "and have to leave me the row house when you become a big star."
"Ha ha," said Lizzie. She crinkled her nose at him and picked up her menu. "What happened to 'break a leg?'"
She fell silent then and the clink of silverware and the hubbub of voices around them took over. John looked down, trying to decide whether he wanted breakfast food or chicken fingers, when that odd sensation of being watched distracted him. He kept his chin down and looked over with his eyes only, to find the guy at the table across from him running his eyes up and down Lizzie's figure.
He glanced back over at Lizzie. She was staring at John, and there could be no doubt why.
"Look, Lizzie," he began. "On the phone the other day. It isn't that I don't care about you, or that I didn't think I was falling in love with you before. I am—"
Her hazel eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth turned up. She leaned forward a little, and he hastily amended, "Or, I thought I was."
She sat back and plopped her menu on the table. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means—look, you're a great girl. You're kind. You're thoughtful. You're adorable, Lizzie. You're drop dead fucking gorgeous. And we're great in bed, I don't have to tell you that." John could feel eyes on him from the next table. He lowered his voice.
"And yeah, I started thinking you might make a good cop's wife. I mean, you were never all freaked out about me possibly getting shot the way Lisa is over Mike. I actually did get shot, and you never said anything to me about quitting the job, or finding a safer position in the department. Ma was yowling, 'Aaaaugh! You're going to get killed!' like some scalded cat, and you just drove me to rehab like it was never any question I was going back to work."
He thought a moment. He almost reached out and took her hand. "And you didn't seem to mind my long hours. With go-sees and the fan film and stuff, you always had something to do. It seemed like it could work out."
Silence took over the table. The waitress came over with coffee and took their orders. John decided on an omelet and Lizzie ordered a salad and a cup of soup. The waitress smiled and walked off, and Lizzie folded her hands and lowered her chin and looked up at him through a few errant damp curls.
"But what?" she said.
John glanced to the side, where he had the feeling the guy with the eyes was eavesdropping.
"But," he said, and took a deep breath. "But I started to get so angry," he said. "You just weren't doing anything with your career, and then you started lying around all the time. And the house was always a mess, and then it really went to shit, and you were home all day. And I'd have to pick up whenever I got home."
"Johnny," she said, and he talked over her.
"And you know how tough it was, with the boss dying and what happened with Mike. We were slammed at work, and you knew that."
"Johnny!" she said again. He stopped, and she said, "It's my house. It's my name on the lease. I can keep it any way I want."
He flapped his hands in the air. "Doesn't mean I want to live there!" He reminded himself to keep his voice down. "What if we had children? I can just imagine a crib and a baby mess in the middle of that junkyard. And another thing."
Her hazel eyes blazed an amber flame.
"If it's your name on the lease, why am I paying most of the bills? Thank God I still got salary from work while I was out. We'd have been homeless with what you were bringing in. Ma just asked me for a loan, and I had to turn her down because I've been spending my savings paying your half of the rent."
Lizzie bit her lip and looked away. John saw a glint of tears.
Finally she looked back at him. "I was in a slump, Johnny, okay? I don't know why I wasn't getting any work, but I wasn't, and it sucked. And if you don't work, you don't get paid. But now, with the commercial—and there's going to be more—and maybe a movie role ... I mean, Jesus, Johnny." She shrugged. "Can't we hire somebody to clean?"
Then she smiled. Lizzie had the most winning smile.
John fought a grin and shook his head. Finally he reached across the table and took her hand. He laced his fingers through hers.
Lizzie's smile morphed into a come-hither grin, and she slowly reached up and undid her next button.