Brazen Virtue

gritting their teeth and swearing. She made two wrong turns because her mind was elsewhere, then pulled into the parking lot beside the station.
    If she had any luck, Ed wouldn’t be in. Then she could explain herself to the stern-faced Captain Harris.
    She saw Ed the moment she walked into Homicide. The little flutter in her stomach wasn’t anxiety, she discovered. It was pleasure. For a moment she simply watched him and absorbed. He was sitting behind a desk typing with a steady, two-finger style.
    His hands were so big. Then she remembered how gently, how devastatingly he’d used them the night before. This was the man who loved her, she thought. This was the man who was willing to make promises to her. And this was a man who would keep them. Because the urge to go to him, to put her arms around him came so strong, she crossed the room and did just that.
    He stopped typing to close his hand over hers on his shoulder. As soon as she’d touched him, he’d known. There was her scent, and her feel. Several cops smirked in his direction as she leaned over his shoulder to kiss him. If he’d noticed, he might have been embarrassed. But he only noticed her.
    “Hi.” He kept her hand in his as he drew her around. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

    “And I’m interrupting. I hate it when people interrupt me when I’m working.”
    “I’m nearly finished.”
    “Ed, I really need to see your captain.”
    He caught it, the trace of apology in her voice. “Why?”
    “I’d rather go through it all just once. Is he available?”
    Thoughtful, he studied her. By this time he knew her well enough to understand she would say nothing until she was ready. “I don’t know if he’s still here. Take a seat and I’ll check.”
    “Thanks.” She held his hand a moment longer. Around them phones rang steadily and typewriters clacked. “Ed, when I tell you what I have to say, be a cop. Please.”
    He didn’t like the way she looked at him when she asked. As she did, something curled into his stomach and lodged there, but he nodded. “I’ll see if I can find Harris.”
    Grace took his seat when he left. In his typewriter was the report on Mary Beth Morrison. Grace tried to read it with the same kind of detachment with which Ed had written it.
    “Come on, Lowenstein, just let me look at it.”
    At the sound of Ben’s voice, Grace turned and watched him troop into the room on the tail of a slim brunette.
    “Go find something to do, Ben,” Lowenstein suggested. She carried a cardboard box tied with string. “I’ve only got fifteen minutes to get out of here and make that mother-daughter lunch.”
    “Lowenstein, be a pal. Do you know the last time I had any homemade pie?” He leaned closer to the box until her forefinger jammed into his stomach. “It’s cherry, isn’t it? Just let me look at it.”
    “You’ll only suffer more.” She set the box on her desk, then shielded it with her body. “It’s beautiful. Work of art.”

    “Does it have that fancy braided crust?” When she only smiled, he looked over her shoulder. It could have been sympathy cravings, he told himself. Hadn’t he felt queasy this morning? If he was going to have Tess’s morning sickness, then at least he was entitled to her cravings. “Come on, just a peek.”
    “I’ll send you a Polaroid.” She put a hand on his chest, then spotted Grace across the room. “Who’s the knockout sitting at Ed’s desk? I’d kill for a jacket like that.”
    Ben glanced over and grinned at Grace. “Give me the pie. I’ll see if I can make a trade.”
    “Knock it off, Paris. Is that Ed’s new lady?”
    “You want gossip, you gotta pay for it.” When Lowenstein stared at him, he relented. “That’s her. Grace McCabe. Writes first-class murder mysteries.”
    “Really?” Lowenstein’s bottom lip jutted out as she considered. “Looks more like a rock star. I can’t remember the last time I sat down with a book. I can’t remember when I had time to read a cereal box.” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the funky and very expensive sneakers. Funky and expensive. The two words seemed to suit the woman, but Lowenstein wondered how Ed fit in. “She’s not going to break Ed’s heart, is she?”
    “I wish I knew. He’s nuts about her.”
    “Seriously nuts?”
    “Dead seriously nuts.”
    Anticipating Ben, she laid a hand on top of the box. “Here he comes now. Christ, you can almost hear the violins.”
    “Getting cynical,