Free Haunted Hearts by John Lawrence Reynolds Page A

feet.”
    She smiled, without humour. “I don’t think his feet had anything to do with it. I think the only thing cold about him was in his chest.”
    â€œHe told some lies?”
    â€œNot some. A lot.” Her hand went back to her hair and she teased it with her fingers.
    â€œHey.” McGuire reached across and touched her hand. “It’s only lunch.”
    â€œI know. But I’ve been careful since then, you know?”
    â€œIt’s a good idea,” McGuire said. “Being careful.”
    Their meal arrived and they busied themselves with the food, McGuire ordering a glass of wine for each of them. Lorna mentioned a book she had been reading that she thought McGuire might enjoy, an insider’s view of the life of a big-city detective. “I’ll bring it tomorrow,” she said.
    â€œI won’t be in tomorrow,” McGuire said. “I’m going to Annapolis for Orin Flanigan.”
    â€œYou are?” She paused with her wine glass halfway to her lips. “He never said anything to me about it.”
    â€œHe made the decision in his office just as I was leaving. Probably fill you in when we get back.”
    â€œOrin tells me everything,” she said, setting the glass down again and frowning at it. “Orin’s the most predictable person I’ve ever met.”
    â€œWell, nobody could predict that the man he wanted me to find would be in Annapolis.”
    â€œWhat man?”
    â€œSomebody named Ross Myers. He’s a gambler. You know him?”
    â€œNever heard of him.”
    â€œGet Orin to fill you in when we get back.”
    She seemed distracted through the rest of the meal, but by the time coffee arrived she had grown more open, almost mellow. McGuire made her laugh with stories from his police career. He enjoyed hearing her laughter. He always enjoyed making women laugh. It was an assurance that they were pleased with his company, the only one he trusted, and he told her other stories as they walked together back to the office, some of them a little racy, taking care to avoid offensive language and descriptions. He mentioned Fat Eddie Vance, who wasn’t fat any more but was probably the same ineffectual man, lost beyond the confines of police procedural manuals.
    â€œI’ve known people like that,” she said. “They’re not just cops, you know.”
    â€œYeah, well,” McGuire said. “My buddy Ollie had a saying that nailed Eddie perfectly.”
    â€œWhat was that?”
    â€œIt was a little crude.”
    â€œHey, I’m a big girl. Is it funny?”
    McGuire nodded.
    â€œI can take crude, if it’s funny.” They were at the entrance to the office building. She leaned towards him. “Tell me,” she said. “Come on.”
    â€œOllie used to say,” McGuire said, “that Eddie Vance couldn’t get laid in a woman’s prison with a fistful of pardons.”
    Lorna laughed so loudly that she covered her mouth and leaned against the building wall, hiding her face from McGuire and passersby. “You have so many stories,” she said. “Have I heard them all?”
    â€œI’ve got dozens more.”
    â€œPromise to tell them to me?”
    â€œThe cleaner ones.”
    â€œI want to hear them all.”
    They walked through the revolving door and into the lower lobby. McGuire would be leaving the next day, a Friday. “Guess I’ll see you Monday.” she said.
    â€œHow about Saturday night,” he said. “Should I call you for dinner?”
    â€œIs that a promise?”
    He told her it was.
    â€œJust a minute.” She stopped near the elevator and used a mascara pencil to scribble a telephone number on a slip of paper. “You don’t have to, you know,” she said, handing him the paper. “I won’t be disappointed if you don’t.” When he put it in his pocket she looked around and leaned towards