Northern Lights

going to want a piece of your time for an interview for The Lunatic."
    "We'll have to work that out."
    "We could sit out in the lobby now, and—"
    "Not now, Max." Carrie beamed a smile. "No work tonight. But before we get back to the party, I'd like to ask you, Chief Burke, if you'd have any problem with us running a police log in the paper. I think it would show the community what you do, how we handle things here. Now that we've got an official police department, we want The Lunatic to document it."
    "You can get that information from Peach."
    Meg wound her way back to the bar, got another glass of champagne before sliding onto a stool where she could watch the dancing while she drank.
    Charlene slid onto the one beside her. "I saw him first."
    Meg kept watching the dancers. "More who he sees, isn't it?"
    "You're only looking at him because I want him."
    "Charlene, if it's got a dick, you want it." Meg tossed back champagne. "And I'm not looking at him, particularly." She smiled into her glass. "Go ahead, make your play. It's no skin off mine."
    "First interesting man who's come along in months." Feeling chatty now, Charlene leaned closer. "Do you know, he has breakfast with little Jesse every morning? Isn't that the sweetest thing? And you should've seen the way he handled the Mackies. Plus, he's got mystery. " She sighed. "I'm a sucker for a man with mystery."
    "You're a sucker for a man as long as he can still get it up."
    Charlene's mouth twisted in disgust. "Why do you have to be so crude?"
    "You sat down here to let me know you're hoping to fuck the new chief of police. You can put ribbons on it, Charlene, it's still crude. I just leave off the ribbons."
    "You're just like your father."
    "So you always say," Meg murmured as Charlene flounced away.
    Hopp took Charlene's stool. "The two of you would fight about how much rain came down in the last shower."
    "That's a little philosophical for us. What're you drinking?"
    "I was going to get another glass of that lousy champagne."
    "I'll get it." Meg walked around the bar, poured another glass and topped off her own. "She wants to take a nice, greedy bite out of Burke."
    Hopp looked over at Nate, saw he'd managed to escape from the Hawbakers only to be caught by Joe and Lara Wise.
    "Their business."
    "Their business," Meg agreed, and clinked her glass to Hopp's.
    "The fact that he looks to be more interested in taking one out of you isn't going to improve your relationship with your mother."
    "Nope." Meg sipped, considering. "But it should make things exciting for a while." She saw Hopp cast her eyes to heaven and laughed. "I can't help it. I like trouble."
    "He would be." Hopp turned on the stool when she saw Nate being pulled onto the floor again by Charlene. "All that business about still waters, blah blah. Those broody types can be hard to handle."
    "He's about the saddest man I've ever seen. Sadder than that drifter stopped in here a couple of years ago. What was his name? McKinnon. Blew his brains out up in Hawley's cache."
    "And wasn't that a mess? Ignatious might be sad enough to put the barrel of a .45 in his mouth, but he's got too much spine to pull the trigger. Think he's too polite, too."
    "That's what you're banking on?"
    "Yeah. That's what I'm banking on. Well, hell. I'm going to do my last good deed of the year and go save him from Charlene."
    Sad, polite men were anything but her type, Meg told herself. She liked reckless men, careless men. Men who didn't expect to stay the night after. You could have a couple drinks with a man like that, tangle up the sheets if the mood struck, then move on.
    No bumps, no bruises.
    A man like Ignatious Burke? A roll with him was bound to be bumpy, and it was bound to leave bruises. Still, it might be worth it.
    In any case, she liked conversations with him, and that couldn't be overvalued in her opinion. She could happily go days, weeks without talking to another human being. So she appreciated interesting conversation. And she liked watching the sorrow that haunted his eyes come and go. She'd seen it lift a few times now. When he'd stood in front of her house that morning, listening to Loreena McKennit, and again for a few moments when they'd danced.
    Sitting there now, with the music and the heat of humanity all around her, she realized she wanted to see it lift again. And that she had a good idea how to make it happen.
    She went behind the bar, found an open bottle and two glasses. Holding them down at her