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

phone. “When are you coming home?”
    Give me a break , Wetzon thought. She picked up Max’s phone. “I’ll take it here, B.B. Hello?”
    “Wetzon, this is Jerry Gordon. Are you free to talk?”
    “Yes.”
    “I have a confession to make.”

42.
    “T O ME? ” W ETZON stuck her head in the doorway to their office, waving to get Smith’s attention. “To me?” Pick up , she mouthed to Smith, miming the motion.
    Smith cut her conversation with Twoey short with a lot of kissing noises into the phone.
    “To you and your partner, that is. You are coming to the meeting this afternoon at Richard’s office?”
    “Wouldn’t miss it.” She rolled her eyes at Smith, who had managed to get on the line without a sound.
    “Well, it will come up, so I thought I’d better confess and clear the air. Are you there?”
    “Yes.” She made sweeping get on with it motions with her free hand.
    “Barbie and I’d heard about you and your partner from both Brian and Rona, and of course, we read all about you last year when Goldman Barnes died. So when Tabitha ran away and Brian was murdered, I thought it would be best to keep the police out of it, under the circumstances. Tabitha couldn’t have gone far, and the group felt Penny Ann needed to think someone was looking for Tabitha, so—”
    Instantly, Wetzon was angry. “So it was all meaningless. And perhaps if the police had been involved earlier, Tabitha might still be alive.”
    “We can’t blame ourselves, my dear, or each other. Blame creates a negative force field—”
    “Excuse me, Jerry—”
    Smith stuck her finger in her mouth, indicating she was throwing up. Wetzon turned her back on Smith.
    “Look, Jerry, I have two calls waiting, and I’m late for an appointment. Can we talk about this later?” She didn’t give him a chance to reply. When she hung up, she looked at Smith, who exploded with laughter. “Do you believe him? What do you think he is, an ESTie group leader or something?”
    “Sounds more like the Forum or Life Spring.”
    “I don’t know,” Wetzon said solemnly. “Maybe he’s an advanced reader of tarot cards.”
    “Dissss-believer,” Smith hissed. She held up a stack of suspect sheets. “I’m going to set this first group up with Ameribank.”
    “I have to schedule Stu Beck and his friend Larry, then I have a lunch appointment ...” But Smith was no longer listening. Wetzon walked back to her desk and looked at her calendar. One of B.B’s brokers was starting today. Small fee, but it went toward his salary, so every little bit helped. She went to the door. “B.B.?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did Steve Weissman start?”
    “Not yet. He can’t find anyone to resign to. His manager is away till Monday, and the assistant manager is out sick. He may not be able to do it today.”
    “That’s ridiculous. Tell him to resign immediately to the ops manager, or leave a letter of resignation, dated today, on his manager’s desk. He’ll find it on Monday when he gets back. If Steve sits now, he’ll probably have clearance before the end of the day. Then he can spend the weekend getting the transfers signed. Never let them delay, B.B. It stops the momentum of the move, stalls it. The broker has a chance to think—and get cold feet. You could lose him.”
    “But it’s such a good move for him…. ”
    “Oh, B.B., spare me.” He still thought like the preppie he was.
    The phone rang, and B.B. scrambled to answer it. “Smith and Wetzon, good morning. Hold on.”
    “Who?”
    “Mr. Pinkus.”
    She sat down at Max’s neat desk and moved his folders. A flutter appeared in her chest and she ordered it to subside, but it didn’t obey. “Hi.”
    “Leslie, I’m sorry about last night.”
    “So am I.”
    “Can we try again?”
    “I don’t know.” Her hand was shaking, and the phone clunked her ear. Damn it all.
    “Monday?”
    “No more weekdays. I don’t function well without sleep.... I mean ...” She felt her face flush.
    “I know what you mean.”
    “Twoey is throwing a surprise birthday party for my partner a week from tonight. Do you want to come?”
    “I’d like that. I’m going to be in Chicago over the weekend. I’ll call you when I get back.”
    After telling B.B. she had a lunch appointment, she put on her raincoat, belted it, and went out on the street. It was raw today, another hint of approaching winter. She shivered and turned up her collar.
    Would she be in her own home by Christmas? Louie hadn’t