A Striking Death by David Anderson Page A

are you, Nick?”
    Was she mad at him? Four words weren’t enough to tell. “I’m just grabbing a quick bite at Sunshine’s.”
    “What happened to the phone call?” She was definitely annoyed, no doubt about it.
    Drumm could picture her: Emily’s lips would have that pinched look and her eyes all squinty. He’d seen it too many times before. Suddenly he was tired of it all.
    “Emily, I’m on a new case. I got involved and I forgot. I’m sorry.” The problem was he didn’t sound sorry, even to himself.
    “At least you’re honest. You forgot about me.” Her voice was chilly.
    “Emily…”
    “I won’t be home tonight, Nick. You’ll have to look after Will. And get your own dinner.” And she hung up.
    Drumm grimaced at the phone and then wearily replaced it in his pocket.
    The server brought his coffee a few moments later.
    “Nothing else for the moment, thanks,” he told her. “I guess I’m not hungry after all.” His appetite had suddenly gone. Damn Emily! Why couldn’t she understand?

 
    twenty-eight
     
    Lori Singh had managed to avoid eating with her new partner. She had begged off, said she had business elsewhere. She couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a meal with him just yet. So here she was, having a late lunch at an Indian restaurant she had been to before. It was a busy place, even this late in the afternoon. Spice Indian Cuisine, it was called, and it occupied the entire second floor of an older building a mile or so from the YPS headquarters. There were maybe forty other diners at the moment.
    She’d ordered basmati rice, lamb korma and a Heineken. She usually preferred wine but with Indian food, beer seemed the right choice.
    She savoured her food, sipped her beer and thought about the morning’s events. From watching geese to here – quite a change.
    She and McDonald had completed questioning the neighbours. Her notebook was filled with notes that said little. Nobody had seen or heard anything. There had been no new vehicles parked on the street, no mysterious strangers. The only thing they had was that Levine’s car had been left on his driveway overnight, and they had no explanation as to why.
    Lori drank some more beer. Louise Stephens was certain the car had been on the driveway when she went to bed, and still there the next morning. Lori had spent a lot of time with the widow, calming her down and seeing if she knew any more. She didn’t. It had taken a long time to establish this, unfortunately.
    Lori sighed and picked up her glass again. The food was good, the beer even better. Too bad she didn’t have someone to share it with. But at least she wasn’t with Detective Dick.
    Lori’s phone had a special ring tone for her boss. She heard that sound now.
    “Hello, Nick. Where are you?”
    When he told her, she laughed. “We’re only a mile or so from each other!” She told him where she was. “Bring your lunch over here. I’ll wait.” She was only half joking.
    “Can’t. I have to hustle over to the morgue for Sigrid’s post mortem. I’ll be lucky to make it on time.”
    Lori thought his voice wasn’t right. “Is everything okay? You sound a little strange.” Actually she thought he sounded exhausted.
    “No, I’m fine. Must be the connection.” He cleared his throat. “I want to hear about the rest of the morning but I don’t have time right now. What you and Dick learned, I mean.”
    “It wasn’t much.” She started to summarize what they had found out but he cut her off.
    “No time, Lori. I have to run.” She could hear him talking to someone in the background, and then he came back on. “Sorry about that. Just getting the bill. What are you doing this afternoon?”
    Lori sighed. “Back to see Mike Bailey. And Dick’s notifying Levine’s next of kin. And then he’s going to check the phone records and—”
    “Lori, I’m sorry, I don’t have time. Let’s get together later at the Pig and Whistle.  Four thirty. Make sure Dick comes