Chapter 3

Two years ago. Karen. She hadn't even said goodbye, just stopped answering his calls.

Bobby hadn't bothered to find her, either. He knew it would be pointless.

And then he met Denise at the newsstand by his apartment. He'd almost fallen for her. She left him a note, told him she just didn't see a future for them.

Oona was fun. She knew at least 6 languages fluently. Sometimes on dates, they would converse entirely in German and convince people they were tourists. She'd wanted to move in; he didn't invite her. She started seeing someone else before they'd even broken it off.

Maybe it was a rebound thing, but sex was fantastic with Claudia. In fact, that summed up their entire relationship. She tried, but she couldn't connect with him in any other way. So she'd drifted on to someone else.

About that time is when Bobby's attitude started to change. He'd decided he was at fault, that he should be more attentive to the wants and needs of the women in his life. He met Anne at the smoke shop. Thinking of her now, he smiled as he remembered her short skirts and knee-high spike heeled boots. She'd stayed with him longer, almost two months. In the end, the job seemed to be the thing that drove her off.

He waited a while before dating again, and then he answered a personal ad. Bev was just like the ad said she was. Again, he tried to focus on her needs, and again, after a month, she broke it off.

When Janine came along, he was thinking about revising his strategy. The thing was, she was such a nice person, that he couldn't. He decided to stick with the plan. From Bobby's perspective he'd given her everything she'd asked for… so why wasn't it enough?

Fuck them. Fuck them all. Silently, Bobby resolved to stop looking. Marriage and family and all that wasn't for him anyway. He was going to have a good time, get laid when he got the chance, and not even bother with trying to make anything work.

He'd just settled into a deep, hard sleep when the alarm went off. With a groan, he rolled out of bed and hit the shower.

Alex and Logan were mapping out a course of action for the day. Bobby strolled up behind them and dropped a sack in front of Alex on the desk. When she turned around, he handed her a coffee. "What's this?" she asked him.

"Danish," he said.

"Thanks." He hadn't slept well, she could see it all over his face. "You okay?"

He flicked his eyes over at Logan, then back at her. "Yeah, sure," he lied.

Logan cleared his throat. "We were planning out the day," he told Goren. "Seems it's time to branch out a little. Narco has some young faces, we thought we'd borrow them to track these two down."

"Anybody I know?" Bobby asked.

Alex rattled off the names, but they were all unfamiliar. She glanced up at him. "Young faces, remember?" She told him, and he nodded.

"In the meantime, I've got a place I want to check out in the neighborhood. The weapon still hasn't been recovered," Logan explained. "Barek and I hit this one the other night, before she got sick. I think… something about it just doesn't sit well with me."

"Uh, hello, detective," Rudy Mullins said, as he took a step back. Everything about his body language screamed reluctance.

Bobby milled around the store, checking prices on jackets and hats while listening to Mike talk with the man.

"I thought you were… uh, done with me the other night," he continued.

"Oh, you know, Rudy, sometimes you think of a question later. So Rudy," Mike asked, sitting down in the little chair behind the counter. "What is it about your clothes that these guys like?"

"H-huh?"

"You said they're regular customers." Mike glanced over his shoulder at Bobby. "Goren, here, he tells me he only buys a jacket maybe once a year. And hats, 2-3 a year at most."

"Y-you're suits."

"Yeah," Mike agreed, "but we like to let down on the weekends, you know. So, you figure, our friends… they're not suits." He stared at Mullins until he nodded. "So maybe they buy more often, but still... Who needs more than one coat?"

Rudy rubbed the inside of his wrist. "I… I just sell the stuff. I don't ask why."

Abruptly, Bobby caught the man's forearm and turned it so he could have a look. "Looks like a rash," he said. "You should put something on that." He let go.

"All right, then, Mullins," Mike said as he got up out of the seat. "We'll be in touch. You know, if I forgot to ask something again."

As he and Goren walked out, Bobby fingered one more pricetag before he left. They met up with Alex at the diner on the corner.

"How'd that go?" she inquired.

Mike shrugged. "He squirmed a little more than last time."

"That rash," Bobby said. "You know, it's rare, but some people are… allergic to marijuana."

"Poor bastards," Mike quipped. "You think Rudy's-?"

"The nice thing about his jackets is they all have a hidden inside pocket. A pretty roomy one. Big enough for a stash, or a weapon."

"Yeah, but why are these two replacing them all the time?"

Bobby looked around, then shrugged. "I don't know."

Bobby stared at the television, feeling the effects of the alcohol on his system. He was warm and relaxed. The game ended, and a host of other bar patrons drifted off in various directions, leaving a hole at the bar. He sipped at his drink and slowly turned, scanning the room. His eyes fell on a familiar face in the corner. She picked up her hand and waved three fingers, a subtle smile at her lips.

As Goren smiled back, she rose and drew near, settling onto the barstool beside him.

"Imagine seeing you here," she said.

He gave her a crooked smile. "Hello, Claudia."