Blue Smoke

over the fence backing the alley, she was right behind him. “Police! Freeze!”
    He was fast, she thought again, but he didn’t know Baltimore. She was faster—and she did.
    The rain-drenched alley he’d run into this time dead-ended. He whirled, eyes wild, and flipped out a knife.
    “Come on, bitch.”
    Keeping her eyes locked on his, Reena drew her weapon. “What, are you just really stupid? Toss down the knife, Jamal, before I shoot you.”
    “Ain’t got the balls.”
    Now she grinned, though her palms had gone clammy and her knees wanted badly to shake. “Bet me.”
    From behind her, she heard O’Donnell swear and puff, and had never heard sweeter music. “And me,” he said, bracing his weapon on the top of the fence.
    “I didn’t do nothing.” Jamal dropped the knife. “I’m just having a drink.”
    “Yeah, tell that to DeWanna, and the baby she was carrying.” Her heart pistoned painfully against her ribs as she moved forward. “On the ground, you bastard. Hands behind your head.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He got down, laced his hands behind his head. “You got the wrong person.”
    “This next stint you do in a cage, maybe you can study up on the properties of fire. Meanwhile, Jamal Earl Gregg, you’re under arrest for suspicion of murder.” She kicked the knife away, cuffed him.
    They were soaked to the skin and dripping when they heard the sirens. O’Donnell shot her a fierce grin. “Fast on your feet, Hale.”
    “Yeah.”
    And since it was over, she sat on the wet pavement until she got her breath back.

16
    Well, it was done, Bo thought as he let himself into his house. At least he hoped to God it was done. Mostly. Lawyers, insurance, accountants, realtors. All those meetings, all that paperwork made his ears ring. Not to mention, he thought, a couple of go-rounds with his father.
    Over and done, he decided, and couldn’t figure out if he was relieved or depressed.
    He set a packing box beside the one he’d already brought in and dumped at the foot of the stairs. One more in the car, he mused. He could just leave it there, deal with it all later.
    And he could’ve sworn he heard his grandmother’s voice, telling him to finish what he started.
    “Okay, okay.” He pushed at his already dripping hair and headed back out.
    A beer would be good. A beer, a hot shower, maybe some ESPN. Chill out. Decompress. Then, as he pulled the tarp up to get to the last of the boxes, Reena pulled in. He forgot all about an evening in his underwear watching the game.
    “Hi.” He thought she looked a little pale and tired, but it might’ve been the rain.
    “Hi back.”

    She wasn’t wearing a hat either, and her hair was a riot of tawny corkscrews. “Got a minute?” he asked her. “Want to come in?”
    She hesitated, then gave a little shrug. “Sure. Need a hand?”
    “No, I’ve got it.”
    “Haven’t seen you around much this week,” she commented.
    “Work squeezed between meetings. Turns out I’m executor of my grandmother’s estate. That sounds like it’s really big and shiny. It’s not like she was rolling in it or anything. Mostly it’s just lawyers and paperwork. Thanks,” he added when she opened the door for him. “Want some wine?”
    “About as much as I want to keep breathing.”
    “Let me get you a towel.” He dumped the box with the others, walked down the hall and into what she knew was the half bath.
    The house was nearly a twin of hers in its setup. But what he’d done set it apart. The trim and floors had been taken down to their natural color and varnished, and the walls were a deep, warm green that set off the honey oak. He’d suspended a mission-style light from the lofty ceiling.
    The hall could have used a runner, she thought. Something old and a little threadbare and full of character. And he probably planned to refinish the table near the door where he threw his keys.
    He came back with a couple of navy blue towels. “You’ve done some beautiful work in here.”
    “Yeah?” He glanced around as he scrubbed his hair with a towel. “Good start anyway.”
    “Really good start,” she said as she wandered into the living room. His furniture needed help. Slipcovers, or better yet replacement. And he had perhaps the biggest television she’d ever seen dominating one wall. But the walls were a slightly deeper shade of that green, the woodwork gorgeous. And the little fireplace had been fronted in creamy granite, framed