She still can't find her keys. Jo can drive. Of course she can. But those damned keys. Abe or Henry must have hid them from her when they came in last night from another bender. If there was anything worse than a headache, it was Abe's cure for it.
And why did Henry have to seem so chipper every morning after? Not that it was a problem. It wasn't. They were two friends… two close friends… going out for drinks. No big deal. Not like she wanted to go to Paris with him and get lost.
Instead, she has lost her keys. She could take a cab home, yes, but Jo would still need her keys to get in her house.
"Looking for these?" Henry asks cheerily as he jingles the keys above her head just out of reach.
Jo feels like a tiger reaching for the low hanging fruit. She growls like one, too.
"Perk up. We have a homicide. Nothing beats a hangover like knowing you're alive!"
Henry has moved beyond merely chipper into annoying levels of optimism.
"Unless you plan on driving, hand over the keys," Jo says in her sternest voice.
"Yes, Detective," he replies with keys outstretched. Once she has them, he flicks his scarf over his shoulder and gives her that waiting expectant look. They have a case to solve, one that's bigger than a missing set of keys.