Free The Bright Silver Star by David Handler Page A

special smile that she reserved for him and him alone. As she started toward him he wondered what would happen to him if she were not in his life right now. He would go right down the drain, that’s what.
    But she must never know this—she thinks I’m the one who has it all together.
    They did not kiss when she got to his table. Des had an ironclad rule about Public Displays of Affection when she was in uniform.But there was no avoiding the way they glowed in each other’s presence. Just as there was no missing the curious glances that they got from neighboring tables. Because they were a different kind of couple, no question. And when you’re different people wonder about you. The glances didn’t bother either of them one bit. They knew how happy they were together.
    “Hey, bod man,” she said, her pale green eyes shining at him from behind her horn-rims.
    “Back at you, Master Sergeant.”
    “I’m going to fetch me some lunch.”
    “Lucky me,” Mitch said brightly.
    She cocked her head at him curiously. “How so?”
    “Now I get to watch you walk away,” he replied, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Among her many attributes, Des Mitry possessed one of the world’s top ten cabooses.
    “Dawg, would you be talking trash at me?”
    “I’m sure trying.”
    “You’d better behave yourself before I perform a strip search.”
    “Could I please get that in writing?”
    She let out a big whoop and headed over toward the deli counter, her big leather belt creaking, her stride long, athletic, and totally lacking in self-consciousness. She wasn’t showing off her form. Didn’t need to. Des knew perfectly well what she had. She kidded around with Donna for a minute, then returned with a Greek salad and an iced tea, and sat across from Mitch, her brow furrowing intently. She had something unsettling on her mind. He knew her well enough to know this.
    Mitch raised his orange juice in a toast. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
    “Wait, wait, I
know
this one! We watched it together. Humphrey Bogart, right?”
    “In? . . .”
    “Um, was it
The Maltese Falcon
?”
    “Almost, it was
Casablanca.
But you were
so
close that we’re going to give you one of our very fine consolation prizes.”
    “Which is? . . .”
    “Me.”
    “And if I’d won—what would I have gotten then?”
    “Me.”
    “Sounds like I can’t lose,” she said, attacking her salad hungrily. “Looks like I’ve got me some catching up to do, though. I see you’ve already had your dessert. I’m guessing something from the doughnut food group.”
    “Wait, what are you talking about?”
    “Powdered sugar on your collar, boyfriend.”
    He glanced down at the collar of his short-sleeved khaki shirt. There were indeed tiny flecks of white there. “I can’t put anything over on you, can I?”
    “Don’t even try. I’m a trained detective. Besides, I know you. Whenever you’re upset about something you break your diet.”
    “I’m not like you, you know,” Mitch said defensively. “I can’t survive on such a drastically reduced food intake. Pretty soon you’ll have me subsisting on a handful of vitamin pills, just like the Jetsons.”
    “Well, at least you’ve moved off of Yogi and Boo Boo,” she said tartly.
    “I sure do wish you’d let me take that one back.”
    “Not even. You told me the truth. That’s what I need to hear if I’m going to get any better. Hell, that’s why I keep you around.”
    “So that’s it.”
    Des gazed at him steadily from across the table. “What’s going on, baby?”
    “You first.”
    “Me first what?”
    “Something’s bothering you, too, isn’t it?”
    “No way. You broke your diet—you go first.”
    “Okay, I can accept that. But we have to keep this between us, okay?” Mitch leaned over the table toward her, lowering his voice. “Dodge Crockett dropped a neutron bomb on me this morning— Martine is having an affair.”
    “My, my,” Des responded mildly.