Manhattan Is My Beat

store—”I was going to get an ice cream cone. You want one?”
    Richard sighed. “How ‘bout if we get a safe deposit box?”
    “But we’re right here.”
    “A bank first?” he asked. “Please?”
    She ran her hand over the money again. Picked up one bundle. It was heavy. “After, can we get an ice cream?”
    “Tons of ice cream. Sprinkles too, you want.”
    “Yeah, I want.”
    He started the car. Rune leaned back in the seat. She was laughing. Looking at him, coy and sly.
    He said, “You’re looking full of the devil. What’s so funny?”
    “You know the story of the Little Red Hen?”
    “No, I don’t. How ‘bout if you tell it to me?” Richard turned the old car onto the Brooklyn Bridge and pointed the hood toward the turrets and battlements of Manhattan, fiery in the afternoon sun. Rune said, “It goes like this …”

MANHATTAN IS MY BEAT
     
    A Bantam Book
     
    All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1988, 2000 by Jeffery W. Deaver.
     
    For information address: Bantam Books.
     
    eISBN: 978-0-307-56975-2
     
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