The thought of someone lurking outside my unit, perhaps stalking Bella and me, had Ben troubled. He would keep a lookout, he promised Bobby. Could probably even work a way to pass through the street a few more times a day. Yeah, he could do that.
Ben wasn't a spring chicken. I pegged his age in the fifties, and he had the oversize bottle-thick glasses and a graying mustache to go with it. His job kept him active, though; he had a fit, rangy build just starting to go soft in the middle. Bobby twenty years from now. Beneath the rim of his brown UPS-issued baseball cap was the face of a former boxer—the crooked nose that had taken one too many punches, a hairline scar running down the left side of his chin from a rebuilt jaw, which twisted his lower face slightly to the left.
Now Ben squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest. Very solemnly, he shook Bobby's hand.
So I had the entire Boston PD, plus one UPS man, standing guard. I ought to sleep like a baby at night.
Ben departed. Bobby carried my box back into the building. I followed behind and decided that I was just plain depressed.
Chapter 31
I CAUGHT D.D. AND Bobby arguing fifteen minutes later. I was supposed to be sitting on my couch, being a good girl. I was too wired for sitting, however, and still couldn't get used to so many bodies crowding my little space. No one seemed to care what I was doing. So I went downstairs to check on Bella.
Bobby and D.D. were outside, by the curb. No other detectives around. I heard D.D.'s tone first and the anger in it brought me up short.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" D.D. snarled.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Bobby, pretending to be blase, but already defensive, so apparently he knew exactly what D.D. had on her mind.
I tucked back inside the foyer, ear pressed against the cracked outer door.
"You're involved with her," D.D. accused.
"Who?"
D.D. whacked his arm. I heard the smack.
"Ow! What the hell? Is it beat up on Bobby day?"
"Don't play cute. We've known each other too long."
Pause. Then, when Bobby still didn't say anything: "Jesus, Bobby, what is it with you? First Catherine, now Annabelle. What do you have, a Messiah complex? Can only fall for the damsel in distress? You're a detective. You're supposed to know better."
"I've done nothing wrong." Bobby, steelier this time.
"I saw the way you looked at her."
"Oh, for Christ's sake—"
"So it's true, isn't it? Come on, if it isn't, look me in the eye."
The silence grew long again. I could tell Bobby wasn't looking D.D. in the eye.
"Goddammit!" D.D. said.
"I've done nothing wrong," he repeated stiffly.
"What, that makes you noble? Bobby… You know, I was doing my best to overlook the Catherine thing. So you got involved with her. So you lost all common sense. God knows she has that kind of effect on men. But then to have you turn around and do it again… Is this why we broke up, Bobby? Because for you to fall in love, the woman's got to be some kind of a victim?"
Oooh, that really pissed me off. It seemed to get Bobby's goat, too.
"You wanna call the shots, hey, I like a challenge as well as the next guy, D.D. Except we never challenged each other, you and I. We're duplicates, D.D. We live our job, eat our job, breathe our job. And when we dated, we brought our jobs along for the ride. Hell, we've known each other ten years, and I just found out six hours ago that you have an uncle. And like Rottweilers. It never came up, because we never stopped talking shop. Even when we were in bed, we were cops."
"Hey, there is more to me than this job!" D.D. shot back, and for a horrible moment, I thought she was going to cry
"Ah Jesus," Bobby said tiredly.
"Stop it." Another thwack. I was guessing he'd tried to touch her. "Don't you dare pity me."
"Look, D.D. You wanna get personal? Then call a spade a spade. You were never with me for the long haul. I was a curiosity, an elite sniper who sounded pretty cool when he talked about his gun. We both know you've got much bigger game in your sights."
"Now, that's low."
"Well, we're not exactly standing around exchanging compliments."
A long, hard pause.
"She's trouble, Bobby"
"I'm a big boy"
"You haven't done this kind of major case. You can't get personally involved."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Now, do you have something specific you need to tell me, sergeant to detective? Because if not, I'm going back inside."
There was the sound of rustling clothes, then a sudden stop. I think D.D. grabbed his arm. "I went to my house, Bobby I can't find any sign of an intruder. My doors are locked, my windows intact. But Sinkus was right; the underwear is mine. Someone broke in, stole the underwear out of my hamper, and was very, very clever about it."
"The crime-scene techs—"
"There'll be no evidence, Bobby. Just like they've found nothing here. I think that gives us a pretty clear lay of the land."
"Ah nuts. As soon as we're done here, I'll head over with you, look around."