Sacred Sins

chain lock being fastened.

Chapter 5

    E D TOOLED DOWN Sixteenth Street at a sedate pace. He enjoyed cruising as much—well, nearly as much—as he enjoyed sending the tires screaming. For a simple, relatively easygoing man, racing the streets in hot pursuit was a small vice.
    Beside him, Ben sat in silence. Normally Ben would have had a few smart remarks to make about Ed's driving, which was a departmental joke. The fact that Ben said nothing about it, or the Tanya Tucker tape Ed was playing, were signs that his thoughts were elsewhere. It didn't take a mind as methodical as Ed's to figure out where.
    “Got papered on the Borelli case.” Ed listened to Tanya wail about lying and cheating, and was content.
    “Hmm? Oh, yeah, got mine too.”
    “Looks like a couple of days in court next month. D.A. ought to nail him pretty quick.”
    “He'd better. We worked our asses off to get the evidence.”

    Silence trickled back like thin rain. Ed hummed along with Tanya, sang a few bars of the chorus, then hummed again. “Hear about Lowenstein's kitchen? Her husband flooded it. Disposal went out again.”
    “That's what happens when you let an accountant go around with a wrench in his hand.” Ben took the window down an inch so the smoke would trail out when he lit a cigarette.
    “That's fifteen,” Ed said mildly. “You ain't gonna get anywhere if you keep stewing about that press conference.”
    “I'm not stewing about anything. I like to smoke.” As proof he drew deep, but resisted blowing the smoke in Ed's direction. “It's one of the few great pleasures of mankind.”
    “Right up there with getting drunk and throwing up on your own shoes.”
    “My shoes are clean, Jackson. I remember someone toppling like a goddamn redwood when he downed half a gallon of vodka and carrot juice.”
    “I was just going to take a nap.”
    “Yeah, right on your face. If I hadn't caught you—and nearly given myself a hernia in the process—you'd have broken that big nose of yours. What the hell are you smiling at?”
    “If you're bitching, you're not feeling sorry for yourself. You know, Ben, she handled herself real good.”
    “Who said she didn't?” Ben's teeth ground into the filter as he took another drag. “And who said I was thinking about her anyway?”
    “Who?”
    “Tess.”
    “I never mentioned her name.” Ed gunned the engine as a light turned amber, and blinked through it as it switched to red.
    “Don't play games with me, and that light was red.”
    “Yellow.”

    “It was red, you color-blind sonofabitch, and someone should take your license away. I take my life in my hands every time I get in the same car with you. I ought to have a suitcase full of commendations.”
    “She looked good too,” Ed commented. “Great legs.”
    “You're in a rut.” He turned the heater up as the air coming in through the crack of the window cut like a knife. “Anyway, she looked as though she could freeze a man at twenty paces.”
    “Clothes send out signals. Authority, indecision, composure. Looked like she was shooting for aloof authority. Seems to me she had those reporters in hand before she opened her mouth.”
    “Somebody should cancel your subscription to Reader's Digest ,” Ben muttered. The big, old trees dotting the sides of the road were at their peak of color. Leaves were soft to the touch and vibrant in reds, yellows, and oranges. In another week they would be dry, littering the sidewalks and gutters, making scratching, empty sounds as they trailed along the asphalt. Ben pushed the cigarette through the crack, then closed it tight.
    “Okay, so she handled herself. Problem is, the press is going to have this meat to chew over for days. Media has a way of bringing out the loonies.” He looked at the old sedate buildings behind the old sedate trees. They were the kind of buildings she belonged in. The kind he was used to seeing from the outside. “And damn it, she does have great legs.”
    “Smart too. A man sure can admire a woman's mind.”
    “What do you know about a woman's mind? The last one you dated had the IQ of a soft-boiled egg. And what is this crap we're listening to?”
    Ed smiled, pleased to have his partner back on track. “Tanya Tucker.”
    “Jesus.” Ben slid down in the seat and closed his eyes.

    “Y OU seem to feel much better today, Mrs. Halderman.”
    “Oh, I do. I really do.” The dark, pretty woman didn't lie on the couch or sit in a chair, but almost danced around