Free Swimsuit Body by Eileen; Goudge Page A

flashes me a snaggletooth grin. “Next time, try shutting off your phone.”
    â€œWhat if it was one of my renters calling to say the house was on fire?”
    â€œThat’s what the fire department is for.” In his Levis and desert-camo jacket with his brown hair scraped back in a ponytail that looks like something fished from a drain, McGee would appear to be just another lost soul at an AA meeting if not for his eyes. Cop’s eyes , I think as I watch them survey the room, lighting briefly on a group of people chatting animatedly over by the bookcase that holds the prayer books for Sunday services (nothing like talk of a celebrity death to liven up a meeting). “Your detective friend making any progress?” He helps himself to coffee and a cookie.
    â€œWith me or the case?” I quip.
    McGee studies me as he noisily slurps his coffee. “You don’t look like you’re getting any.”
    I sigh. “You’re right about that, sadly.” Not only have I not had sex in a while, Bradley and I haven’t Skyped in over a week, not since I told him about my gruesome discovery. He’s currently incommunicado while the infantry unit with which he’s embedded is on the move.
    I step aside to make way for Brenda T., a middle-aged woman with cropped gray hair. She’s a professor at the university who teaches a women’s studies course, and she’s what’s known in AA as a “high bottom,” meaning she got sober before she hit rock bottom—in her case, after she’d had too much to drink at a faculty party. As opposed to “low bottom,” which would be me.
    â€œAs for the case …” I move out of eavesdropping range. “Spence won’t tell me squat. All he does is ask questions. He keeps having me go over and over it, like he thinks I’m lying or something.”
    â€œI know a good lawyer if you need one.”
    I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t even.”
    His expression turns serious. He takes a bite out of his cookie and chews thoughtfully. “He’s gotta be getting pressure from the top. In a high-profile case, each day that goes by without an arrest the DA sees his career go up in smoke. Which means putting the screws to the chief investigator.”
    â€œThen Spence is getting it from both ends. He said the movie people were impossible.” It’s the one bit of information I gleaned from him. “For everyone he questions, he has to wade through six layers of their people.” I have some sympathy, from my dealings with Brianna. “What, do they think they exist on some exalted plane and can’t breathe the same air as us regular folk?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know, but he seems to be breathing just fine.” McGee points toward a tall man conversing with a group of people across the room. He looks to be around my age, midthirties, and is wearing wraparound shades and a Giants ball cap, pulled low over his forehead, a common disguise at AA meetings, worn by those seeking to hide the fact that they’re hungover. As if that ever fooled anyone. Before I can ask McGee what he means, I gasp in recognition.
    â€œOh, my God, is that—?”
    â€œLaserman. In the flesh.”
    I thought the guy looked familiar when I noticed him slipping in the door shortly after the meeting started. Now I know why. He’s Liam Brady. Star of the mega blockbuster Laserman , about a middle-school science teacher who develops superpowers, in the form of laser beams with the strength of military-grade weaponry, as a result of an accident involving a linear accelerator. It made Liam a household name and spawned two sequels. The picture he’s currently making is Devil’s Slide , which is why he’s here in town. “I didn’t know he was one of us,” I remark.
    McGee gives me a look that seems to say Speak for yourself .
    â€œIt’s a miracle he’s managed to keep