Robert shook his head. “I’m glad you two have solved this thing.”
They looked at each other sheepishly. “Sorry,” Joe murmured.
“A dark sedan,” Robert said. “That suggests middle class, probably white-collar. Maybe even someone who goes home after an abduction or murder to a wife and kids. Wouldn’t be unusual.”
“No,” Joe agreed. “But let’s not talk about murder over dinner, okay?”
The salads came and went. Leslie spoke enthusiastically about her time in Virginia, and Joe made them laugh with a few of the funnier details from his recent case in Las Vegas. But when coffee came, Robert returned to the subject of the disappearances.
“So…you both think our missing women are dead? And our one man, the Mimic, was a tranny. He liked to dress up and walk the streets with the girls. I guess he was good at what he did.”
Leslie hesitated. “I’m afraid I do think they’re dead. I assume you’ve had policewomen dressed up as prostitutes, working the same streets?”
“Nights on end. As soon as we pull them off, our guy knows. Apparently he can smell a policewoman a mile away.”
“Then there’s Genevieve. She wasn’t a hooker, but she was close to them. Thing is, my witness says she went over to the car because she knew whoever was in it,” Joe said.
“Presumably someone respectable,” Leslie said.
“Great. In a city of millions, I’m now looking for someone respectable who drives a dark sedan,” Robert said with a weary sigh. He frowned, looking at Joe. “So…now that you’ve spoken with Eileen Brideswell and looked into Genevieve’s disapearance, you seem to think that it’s connected to my hookers, as well.”
“Yes, I do,” Joe said.
Robert gazed over at Leslie thoughtfully. “Would you be willing to go to the street with me at night and see if…see if you get any hunches or vibes or whatever?”
“All right,” Leslie said after a brief hesitation.
“No,” Joe said flatly.
They both stared at him; Leslie was frowning.
“It would be better if she went with me. You’re a nice cop, Robert, but you’re still a cop. I’m not.”
“You’re a private investigator. Do hookers like investigators any better?” Robert asked.
“Frankly, yes, they do.”
It was Robert’s turn to frown.
Leslie leaned forward. “Robert, I’ll help in any way I can, even though I honestly don’t think I’m going to be able to help.” If only he knew what led her to her discoveries, he wouldn’t be so eager for her help, she thought. “But…”
“But?” Robert asked, curious.
“We need help, too.”
“We?”
Robert stared across the table at them. Joe hoped he couldn’t tell that he, too, had no idea what she was talking about.
“It was no accident.”
“What are we talking about?” Robert asked.
Liar, she thought. He knew. “Hastings House,” she said.
Robert groaned. “Don’t you think I went over all the information we had with a fine-toothed comb?”
“And don’t you think that explosion was pretty damn strange?” Leslie demanded.
“Accidents are strange. That’s why they’re accidents,” Robert said testily. “Joe, you’ve been through the files. Everything points to—”
“It doesn’t matter what everything points to. We both know that what’s obvious is not necessarily the truth.”
Robert groaned again. “You think some fanatic was trying to blow up the whole house? Why? Because he hates history and wants to see a skyscraper there?”
Leslie shook her head gravely. “No. If someone wanted the whole house blown up, it would have been.”
Robert looked at Joe. “Did you instigate this?”
“Hey,” he said gruffly, “Matt was my cousin. Don’t ask me to accept something just because everyone else thinks it’s obvious.”
“Sometimes, when the sun is shining, it’s daytime,” Robert snapped.
“And sometimes, when it’s dark, it’s because there’s an eclipse,” Leslie snapped back.
“She’s right,” Joe said with a shrug.
“You two loved Matt. You don’t want to accept that he died because of a stupid accident. I get it. But he’s gone, and it was an accident. You have to learn to live with it.”
“Matt wasn’t the only one who died that night,” Leslie said.
“But the thing is,” Joe added, “I don’t think it was an accident, and I can’t help but think that Matt was targeted.”
“Targeted?” Robert said. “Oh, come on!”
Joe was surprised when Leslie plunged in more quickly than he could. “Targeted. He was in the back room, and it was the back room that blew up.”
“Because that’s where the build-up in the line was,” Robert said.
“You’ll let me have the files again?” Joe demanded.
Robert threw up his hands. “I’ll get you the files.”
“That’s not enough,” Leslie said stubbornly. “If we need you to do something, you’ll do it.”
“You are…a mule,” he told Leslie.
“Mule? Well, I’ve been called a cadaver dog before, so I guess mule is no worse.”