Blood on the Street (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery, #4)

narrow it down to school or degree or even year. Do you want what I have so far? I can call you with the rest when they’re back on line.”
    “Why not.”
    “I started with Gordon. I found three Gerald Gordons, one Gerard Gordon, one Gordon Jerome—I love people with two first names—six Jerry Gordons, and four Jerome Gordons.”
    A plethora of Gordons, Wetzon thought. She’d taken a wrong turn, gone off in the wrong direction.
    “Just remember.” Sheila’s voice broke through Wetzon’s fog. “We may be able to narrow it down to five or six once I’m back on line.”

55.
    “S WEEEETIE ?”
    WETZON LOOKED up from her date book, where she was shuffling suspect sheets and writing up her schedule for the next day. It was the wheedling tone Smith had taken that alerted her. Smith was half sitting, leaning against her desk, holding a hand mirror and powdering her nose efficiently with a brush-and-powder contraption.
    “Sweeeetie?” Smith said again in that same wheedling tone.
    Wetzon set her marble peach paperweight on top of her schedule and checked her watch. They’d promised to meet Rona for a drink. “If we’re going to meet Rona, we’d better get going.”
    Smith snapped the brush back in its case. “I don’t want to sit around in a bar and listen to Rona masturbate. She’s so self-centered.”
    Oh, fine, Wetzon thought. “All of us in sales are, don’t you think?”
    Smith’s eyes opened wide. “Well, speak for yourself. I certainly am not.”
    What was the use? Wetzon shrugged. “Okay, you win, I’ll go myself.” Probably it was just as well. Rona had called Wetzon for the drink and made no mention of Smith.
    “I don’t want these scum to think I’m at their beck and call. The way they walk all over you—”
    “Shut up while you’re ahead, Smith.” She was into a medium boil. She went out to the coat closet in the reception area and collected her Burberry.
    “What’s bothering you? I can always tell when something’s bothering you.”
    “I don’t suppose you did anything about the shingle.”
    “Not again.” Smith groaned loudly. “Is that all?”
    “You certainly take someone trying to kill me lightly. Should I worry? Have you bought an insurance policy on my life that I don’t know about?”
    Smith threw up her hands. “Now, there you go again. Paranoia does not become you. If I felt someone really was trying to kill you, I’d certainly treat it seriously, but sugar, be realistic. Why—”
    “Forget it!” Wetzon turned her back and started out.
    “Since you feel so strongly about it, I’ll call the police in Westport and ask them to send someone out to look at it.”
    “Thank you.” Wetzon’s hand idled on the front doorknob.
    “Then maybe you’ll stop overdramatizing—”
    “Good-bye, Smith.” She was close to stomping out in a fury. And stomping certainly did not become her.
    “Sweetie, one more itty-bitty thing.”
    Wetzon turned to see Smith crooking her finger at her, calling her back. Wetzon ambled to their doorway. “What?”
    “I’m canceling dinner with Twoey on Friday. I’m going to tell him you and I are going away for the weekend.”
    “Wait a minute. Friday’s your birthday.”
    “I know that. I want to spend it with Dickie. We’re going to drive up to an inn—”
    “You can’t.”
    “What do you mean, I can’t?” Smith’s eyes became slits.
    “It would hurt Twoey terribly.”
    “Oh, puh-lease. He’ll get over it.”
    “Smith—” Damn, she was going to have to tell her. She braced herself for an explosion. “He’s been planning a big surprise party for you for weeks.”
    Dangerous was the only way to describe the look in Smith’s eyes. “And you weren’t going to tell me? What kind of friend are you? You know I hate surprises.”
    “You must never tell him I told you. Try to be gracious—for once—and just let it happen. If you tell ... Dickie … he might actually think you’re a nice person.”
    “I’m sure you think you’re very funny.” Then suddenly Smith smiled her cat smile. “I won’t tell Twoey you told if you get him to invite Dickie.”
    “Oh, God, Smith—”
    “Don’t oh-God-Smith me. Just do it.” She was absolutely thrilled with her solution and would have licked her paws if she could. You could almost hear her purring.
    Wetzon left the office without another word, closed the outside door and leaned against it, breathing calm back into her bloodstream. Sometimes she thought there