“Fifteen minutes.”
“When did he say he’d be here?”
“Within an hour.”
“He’s always late.” A vein bulged at Remy’s temple.
“I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Meanwhile, no one can get their work done.”
“You can use the fax. It has a copy function.”
“Inkjet smears when it gets wet.”
“We can recopy it once the machine’s fixed.”
“The efficiency of an office depends on its equipment.”
“I’ll let you know the moment Marvin gets here.”
“Call him back and tell him he’d better not be late.”
“If he’s one second late, I’ll call his cell.”
“I said now.”
Rule number something-or-other. This was a test. Remy Hackett stood with his feet apart, hands on hips, shoulders back, and gut sucked in.
Max thought of her reasons for taking this job. Step into Wendy Gregory’s life. Learn what made her tick. Catch her killer. Very simple goals.
Problem was she wanted Remy squashed like a worm beneath her heel, wanted it bad.
What would Wendy have done? Cameron’s voice was a breath of sanity in her ear.
Max didn’t wonder. She simply picked up the phone, punched in Marvin-the-copy-guy’s cell number and left a message. Remy stood guard over the copier until Max’s phone rang back.
“You rang, Ma’am?”
“I want to confirm you’d be here no later than an hour.”
“Forty-five minutes,” Remy interrupted, staring pointedly at his watch.
“Excuse me, Marvin, forty-five minutes from now.”
“I told you one hour.” The phone crackled.
“Just checking. Thank you, Marvin.” His cellular clipped off before she got the final word out. “He said he’ll be here.”
“And thank you, Max.” Remy gave her that smile again, the one that said you’ll never get the better of me, baby. “See how well we do together when you follow instructions?”
Her lip quivered with the effort it took not to snarl like a rabid dog. That, too, was how Wendy would have felt. Max knew it in her bones. Wendy had hated him.
Remy Hackett got perverse pleasure from knowing it.
He was the kind of man who’d enjoyed pushing buttons and watching people squirm. He’d have enjoyed beating Wendy down at every turn.
Max would make sure he didn’t get another moment of satisfaction. “By the way, I’ll need extra time at lunch.” She gave him her own especially smug smile. “The detective has some more questions for me.”
Remy’s eyebrows shot up. “For you? You didn’t know Wendy.”
“I suppose he thinks I’ll be unbiased.”
“You can do it after work.”
“He might think we’re impeding his investigation.”
Remy drummed his fingernails on the doorjamb, then narrowed his gaze. “Fine. You’ll stay late to make up the time.”
“Yes, sir.” Asshole.
With the doorway once again empty, phones rang in the bullpen and raunchy laughter drifted in through the warehouse doors. Max turned back to Wendy’s small, neat writing in the margin of the ledger she’d been studying.
“Why did you stay and even give that dickhead the time of day?” Max whispered aloud. She could make lots of assumptions about Wendy’s feelings, but none of them answered that question.
Chapter Six
Max sat across from Detective Long at a plastic picnic table outside a noisy, crowded Kentucky Fried Chicken situated on Fast Food Row. Burger King, Taco Bell, Round Table, and KFC covered the four major food groups, American, Mexican, Italian, and Southern. Since restaurant row was less than half a mile from the police department, Max had insisted they walk. Her high-heeled feet ached, but she hadn’t wanted to be alone in a car with the man.
He had a disconcerting effect on her, as if she’d danced with her best friend’s husband and felt a hard-on poking her hip. Did you or did you not mention it?
Besides, the sun was bright, the day was warm, and she’d needed to get the stink of the police station out of her head. The odor reminded her of an old folks’ home.
“I’m honored you invited me to lunch.” She also wanted to know exactly why the detective had done so.
She’d been politely and apologetically fingerprinted in a small room off a noisy hallway in the beaten-down police building not far from the airport. The traffic had been horrendous for a non-commute hour, and if Remy was true to his word—she never doubted that he would be—she’d be working very late tonight.
Knowing that, she’d accepted Long’s lunch offer. Not because she was charmed by that dimple either. She merely wanted whatever information she could wheedle out of him.
“Sorry you don’t have time for more than fast food.”