Title: Bad Days Are Coming

Chapter 4

*****

"Eric," I call to the man retreating down the hall.  "Don't forget about me tonight."

He smiles, "Don't worry, Cal.  You're unforgettable."

I roll my eyes.  "You did not just say that."

Laughing, he turns to leave. "Oh, hey," he says, stopping suddenly.  "I have to leave right when the shift is over. All right?"

"Hot date?"

"The hottest," he grins.

Shaking my head, I cross my arms and watch him walk away. It's out of Eric's way to pick me up and take me home, but he seems happy to do it—unlike someone I know.  All I have to worry about is whether he's going to flake out on me or make me late, both of which are always possibilities with Eric.

Letting out a breath, I turn to leave and run—literally—into Speed.  He grabs me by the shoulders to steady me.

"I would have picked you up, you know," he says.  His face is expressionless, but his tone is accusatory. 

I smile half-heartedly.  "I didn't want to interrupt your brooding time."

His expression remains unchanged.  "Whatever.  H wants us to interview Evans' partner." 

"Well, let's go," I say, adding a tinge of fake cheeriness to my voice.

Talking to Evans' partner should only be slightly more depressing than talking to Tim Speedle.

*****

We've been sitting in front of Matt Evans' partner's house for almost two minutes.  Speed's been making a production of searching for something in the glove compartment.  I think he's stalling.

Finally, he turns to me.  "You need a ride home tonight?"

"Eric's taking me," I say.

"All right.  Whatever."

I shift my body so I'm facing him.  "Are we going inside?"

"Yeah, I guess," he says, letting out a breath.  "I really hate interviewing the partners."

Nodding, I say quietly.  "I know."

*****

Donald Riley meets us at the front door.  "Hey," he says amiably. 

I vaguely know him.  I worked with him on one or two cases—the same ones I worked with Matt on.  Riley has a reputation for being a pretty nice guy, and that reputation seems to be right on.

He ushers us into his living room and offers us coffee.  "My wife's out," he says.  "She's helping Emily with the arrangements."

"Emily," Speed says.  "That's Evans' wife?"

"Yeah," Riley says.  He looks away, as if to compose himself. Rubbing his hands along his pants, he says, "You tell yourself you're prepared for something like this.  But you're lying to yourself, you know?"

Speed tightens his jaw and looks away.

"I understand," I tell Riley. 

"I almost knew him better than Emily," Riley says.  "I've known him longer, and I spent more time with him."  He laughs dryly.  "Matty and I were practically married.  My wife always said Matty was her main competition."

"Lt. Riley," I say.

"Don."

"Don, do you have any idea who might have done this?"

He frowns.  "It was a robbery."

"Possibly," I say.  "But we have reason to believe it might not have been random."

Don licks his lips.  "Well, Matty was predictable, you know?  You could set your clock by him."

"So," Speed says.  "Lt. Evans frequented that gas station."

"Yeah," Don says.  "He went there every day for coffee and cookies or something."

"Who knew that?" I ask.

Don shrugs.  "Well, it wasn't a state secret."  He leans forward.  "Nobody I know would want to hurt Matty."

"Well, what about somebody you busted?" Speed asks. 

"Why do you think it wasn't a robbery?"

"You know we can't tell you that," I say.

"He was my partner," Don says.

"I know.  But we can't tell you anything."

Don slumps back on the couch, his fingers trailing along the design of a small, round throw pillow.  "Just make sure you get the guy."