W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone Mystery)

was half dressed or my hair was messed up. Neither of us had gone near the bed, so the covers were smooth. Granted we’d been intimate in the past, but we were still in neutral gear this round, so there was no charge whatsoever in the air. Something had cued him and I’d been marked as the enemy.
    I smiled and held out my hand, saying, “Hi, Nick.”
    He said, “Hello.”
    We shook hands briefly and I covered nimbly for the chill wafting in my direction.
    I reached for my jacket and picked up my shoulder bag. “I was just on my way out. Your dad and I are working a case together and we were comparing notes.”
    I have no idea why I offered this lame story, which cast the occasion in a false light. The toss-away comment, while true, sounded implausible on the face of it. I found this unnerving since I usually lie with greater finesse. Nick flicked a look at his father and his eyes then strayed to the room service menu I’d left open on the chair behind me. From there his gaze flicked to the Champagne bucket and half-filled flutes. I felt a flash of guilt, as though sharing a meal might have illicit undertones.
    Meanwhile, Dietz was looking at me perplexed. “Why take off now?”
    “I’ve got things to take care of at home,” I said. “We can chat tomorrow if you have a minute.”
    “Sure thing,” he said.
    He saw me to the door. Nick’s gaze remained fixed on me while I eased into the hall.
    Dietz said, “You drive carefully.”
    “I will and thanks for the drink.”
    “You bet.”
    Over his shoulder, I gave Nick a quick, friendly wave. “Nice meeting you.”
    “Same here,” he said.
    Uhn-hun, I thought. I turned and walked down the hall, doing a little quick step to speed myself along.
    Once outside, I waited for the valet to bring around the Mustang, which he handed over in exchange for a folded bill. I’d given him a five, which I thought was absurd, but I couldn’t bear to be cheap with Dietz’s comment still ringing in my ears. I hadn’t been feeling cheap . Twenty-one dollars for a damn cheeseburger was robbery. I got in the car and released the handbrake, putting a gentle pressure on the accelerator. As I turned right out of the hotel driveway, I cranked the heater up full blast and still I shivered most of the way home.
    •   •   •
    In the morning, I jogged three miles and then continued with my usual routine. I had no idea what I was going to do that day, but I figured I’d better not count on Dietz. By 9:00, I was showered and dressed and drinking a second cup of coffee when the phone rang. I set the paper aside and picked up.
    Dietz said, “Hey, it’s me. I just talked to Pete’s landlady. She’ll be in the office shortly if you want to pop over there with me.”
    “Great. What about Nick?”
    “Still asleep. I told him I had work to do this morning and we’d have lunch when I got back. You want me to pick you up?”
    “Sure.”
    “Good. I’ll see you in a few.”
    •   •   •
    I was waiting out in front when Dietz pulled up. I got in the car and we exchanged courtesies, both of us behaving as though everything was fine, which I suppose it was from his perspective.
    He sent me a quick, proud smile. “What’d you think of Nick?”
    “Nice kid. Handsome,” I said. “I see what you mean about his favoring his mom.”
    “Two peas in a pod.”
    “So what’s going on with him?”
    “He’s got a bug up his butt about quitting his job to go traveling. We chatted about it some, without going into any great detail. The plan seems half-baked, but I didn’t want to argue the point until I heard him out.”
    “I thought Graham was the one with the wanderlust.”
    “Nick must have caught it from him, or from me for all I know. Fortunately, he’s still cautious enough to want my approval before he flings himself into the abyss.”
    “So, he’s in the market for some fatherly advice?”
    “Let’s hope not. I’m new at this. What do I know about parenting? This is the stuff Naomi dealt with.”
    “Ah, well,” I said. I had nowhere to go with the subject and he didn’t seem that comfortable talking about incipient fatherhood. “How’d you end up talking to Pete’s landlady? You caught me by surprise on that.”
    “I’d made a note of the number and called first thing this morning and introduced myself. I said I was representing Pete’s widow and suggested we might make a deal for the back rent.”
    “Somehow I was picturing a guy.”
    “She