Present Day
Amy stopped when she recognized him, standing about ten feet from the table. Her brow furrowed faintly, then the left corner of her mouth twitched up as she recognized him. She made the last few steps to the table, and sat across from him, handing her jacket and scarf to the waiter.
"Detective Goren. What a surprise."
Bobby's fidgeting wasn't all affectation this time. "Ms. Baldwin. What are you doing here?"
"I used to come in all the time, before . . . before the accident. I never saw you back then."
"I switched to this place a few months ago." Because another ghost had surprised him at his old place. Shades of Nicole, not something he wanted to associate with anyone, much less this woman. He pushed it aside.
Amy smiled. "I'm glad. I have a feeling you're much more interesting than my book. Of course, I'm rereading the book. I never really got a chance to read you."
Again, shades of Nicole, but at least this was fair. After all, he had pushed and prodded her, made her life miserable for a few hours. Surely she had the right to make him mildly uncomfortable. He detected no actual malice in her demeanor.
"What book is it?"
"Of Human Bondage."
"Good book."
"Yeah. What have you been up to?" She glanced down at her hands, then back at him, focusing somewhere on his cheek. Suddenly shy. He could sympathize.
"Not much, the usual." Contradictory and patently false, as anyone who read the Times knew. Killing innocent suspects, catching murderers, not getting laid. You know, the usual. "You? You look good. Like you've gained weight."
This got a real smile. Good, it was calculated to do so. Complement a woman for gaining weight, she'd forgive almost anything. Amy was no exception to this rule, and it didn't hurt that it was true.
"Can you talk to my agent, please? I keep telling her I don't look natural unless I've got a little of the corn-fed Midwesterner look."
"Didn't she see your movie?"
She looked briefly puzzled. "Oh, yeah, that one. I did it before . . . you saw it?" Forced cheerfulness.
"It was good. You were excellent." He looked at the breadbasket as the waiter laid it down. "Are you going to let me buy you dinner?"
She looked down at the tablecloth, "Detective, I . . ."
"Come on, it's the least I can do." He smiled, but she didn't see it. She was still studying the tablecloth.
"You were doing your job, detective. I understand that."
Amy stopped when she recognized him, standing about ten feet from the table. Her brow furrowed faintly, then the left corner of her mouth twitched up as she recognized him. She made the last few steps to the table, and sat across from him, handing her jacket and scarf to the waiter.
"Detective Goren. What a surprise."
Bobby's fidgeting wasn't all affectation this time. "Ms. Baldwin. What are you doing here?"
"I used to come in all the time, before . . . before the accident. I never saw you back then."
"I switched to this place a few months ago." Because another ghost had surprised him at his old place. Shades of Nicole, not something he wanted to associate with anyone, much less this woman. He pushed it aside.
Amy smiled. "I'm glad. I have a feeling you're much more interesting than my book. Of course, I'm rereading the book. I never really got a chance to read you."
Again, shades of Nicole, but at least this was fair. After all, he had pushed and prodded her, made her life miserable for a few hours. Surely she had the right to make him mildly uncomfortable. He detected no actual malice in her demeanor.
"What book is it?"
"Of Human Bondage."
"Good book."
"Yeah. What have you been up to?" She glanced down at her hands, then back at him, focusing somewhere on his cheek. Suddenly shy. He could sympathize.
"Not much, the usual." Contradictory and patently false, as anyone who read the Times knew. Killing innocent suspects, catching murderers, not getting laid. You know, the usual. "You? You look good. Like you've gained weight."
This got a real smile. Good, it was calculated to do so. Complement a woman for gaining weight, she'd forgive almost anything. Amy was no exception to this rule, and it didn't hurt that it was true.
"Can you talk to my agent, please? I keep telling her I don't look natural unless I've got a little of the corn-fed Midwesterner look."
"Didn't she see your movie?"
She looked briefly puzzled. "Oh, yeah, that one. I did it before . . . you saw it?" Forced cheerfulness.
"It was good. You were excellent." He looked at the breadbasket as the waiter laid it down. "Are you going to let me buy you dinner?"
She looked down at the tablecloth, "Detective, I . . ."
"Come on, it's the least I can do." He smiled, but she didn't see it. She was still studying the tablecloth.
"You were doing your job, detective. I understand that."