Chapter 10
It was the wee hours of the morning, and Alex's tired eyes were reading over her pile of paperwork for the hundredth time. "But how did Forelli get wind of the book? It was all very hush-hush… non-disclosure agreements and such…"
"Wilkins. He and Forelli must have crossed paths."
Alex sighed. "We'll have to bring them all in tomorrow. Hammer it out between the three of them. Did you ever get what you were after on LaCombe?"
"He switched airlines. Bought a brand new ticket for that last leg from Minneapolis to New York."
"Bought a ticket? Nobody does that."
"Exactly."
Alex rubbed her eyes. "I'm beat. I'm gonna hit the sack."
"You going home?"
"Nah, it's too far. I'll just bunk out here."
"No, look, come to my place. It's close, and you'll be more comfortable."
Alex gave him a grateful smile. "Okay. Thanks, Bobby."
Bobby sat up against the headboard, a book on his left leg. His right elbow rested against his right knee, and his fist pressed into his cheek. He wasn't looking at the book anymore. He was staring into his past.
He almost missed her soft knock at his door. He dropped his leg and sat up straighter. "Yeah, Eames?"
She opened the door a crack. "I'm sorry, Bobby. Do you have any aspirin or something? My headache won't quit."
"Yeah, sure," he said and closed the book as he crawled out of the bed. He wore nothing but his boxers, and he wasn't the least bit self-conscious in front of her.
Bobby walked on bare feet to the kitchen, where he opened the skinny cupboard on the end. The whole bottom shelf was full of medicines. He pulled three different bottles out. "Take your pick," he told her. Bobby poured her a glass of water while she got herself a dose of medicine. As she downed them, he looked her over.
"You sleeping in that?" he asked.
"I didn't bring anything with me," she said in reply.
"Look, I got a… I'll give you a shirt or something. You should be comfortable."
She followed him to his bedroom and stood near the door as he rummaged through his dresser. Bobby found an old gray t-shirt with some kind of mathematical formula on it. He held it out to her, judging how long it would be when she put it on.
Alex looked perplexed. She read the shirt. "I'll be your friend?"
He gave her a sheepish grin. "Imaginary friend. It's the-the formula for an imaginary number. It was a gift."
"I never knew you were into math."
"Well, not much… but humor…" he smiled at her, then.
Alex returned the grin and took the shirt from his hands and cracked a joke about sleeping with imaginary friends.
Bobby smiled as she went to the bathroom to change. In a moment, she was back, and the shirt fell just across the top of her thighs.
Not wanting to stare, he raised his eyes and noticed she was no longer wearing a bra. Bobby looked away quickly and hoped she hadn't noticed his reaction.
"Thanks, Bobby, this is much better," Alex said. As she looked at him, she found herself wondering what it would feel like to run her hand through the curls on his chest.
He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. "G-good, I'm glad," he said. She walked very close to him as she headed back out to her pallet on the couch.
"Good night, Alex," he whispered.
They slept until nine the next morning and then scrambled to get ready quickly. Bobby called in for the patrol cars to round up their persons of interest and bring them in.
"Okay," Alex said, her hair longer and darker because it was damp.
Other than the wet hair and the bags under her eyes, she looked as sharp as any other day.
"Did you sleep okay?" Bobby asked her as he drove the mustang through the neighborhood.
"Yeah, okay," she said.
"It's that couch. Next time you can have the bed."
"No, Bobby, it was fine. I'm just grumpy this morning, that's all."
The conversation drifted to the case, and only once did his face darken as they discussed it.
"I'll take LaCombe. You're liable to lose your temper with him."
Bobby stiffened at her comment, but he didn't argue about it. "I want the guy from the publishing house. We'll ask Ross to get someone to take Wilkins."
"I'll take him myself," the Captain said. "Thanks for the notes. I had some interesting reading over breakfast this morning."
Interrogation A
"You bought a ticket on another airline rather than wait for a rebooking? Why the hurry?"
"I was tired, and I wanted to come home."
"No, I think you had to get back in time to meet someone. Maybe someone who sells champagne?"
Interrogation B
"And you met Wilkins, didn't you?"
The guy looked at the floor.
"Yeah, I think you did. You met him at that Superbowl party. And he told you about the book."
"So what if he told me about it? We could have done a book about anybody on that team, and made a million dollars off it."
"Yeah, but this one? It was already written."
Interrogation C
"What did he say to you? Did he make an offer?"
"He offered two million. He said he could ask for authorization for more."
"And you…?"
"I told Jerry about it. I told him, but he said he wasn't interested. That girl, Celeste? It seemed like he felt like he owed her or something."
"She did write the book."
"Yeah, but it was his life. Without him, she wouldn't have had anything to write about."
Interrogation A
"You found out how much she was offered. It was a lot more than you've ever made."
"I was proud of her."
"And a little… bitter." Alex leaned against the table, pressing her weight against her fingers. "You were never engaged to Celeste, were you?"
"Of course we were! Celeste adored me."
"Funny how you're the only person who says that."
Interrogation B
"I watched the security tapes from Ms. Phillips' apartment. You dropped by, didn't you? Gave her the same offer?"
"I was authorized to offer 2.5 million. Details to be negotiated."
"What did she say?"
He shrugged. "She said she'd think about it."
"No," Bobby grinned. "I don't think so." He got up and paced around the room, circling behind Forelli. "When exactly did you meet LaCombe?"
"Who?"
"Brandon LaCombe." Bobby showed him a picture.
"Oh, uh, he was in the hall when I left her place. He got all mad when he saw I'd been in her apartment. Kind of a loon, if you ask me."
"But he confronted you. He found out why you'd been talking to her."
"Yeah, I guess."
"And he was the one who had the answer to your problem."
"He said he was engaged to her and that he could get the manuscript. He said he'd get it to me within a week."
There was a knocking on the window. Bobby turned to look blankly at the two-way, and then walked out. He paused in the doorway and looked back at Forelli. "Be right back," he said.