Dopplegangster by Laura Resnick Page B

relief when he spotted me. I realized then how seriously he believed that witnessing Charlie’s death had put me in danger.
    He folded his cell phone and put it in his pocket as he stood up. He had removed his tie, and he held his jacket slung over his shoulder. I dropped my cell phone into my purse and met him in front of my building. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked tense and tired.
    His gaze roamed over my face, and he reached up to touch my cheek. I thought it was a gesture of affection until he frowned and asked, “Why are you all blue and scratched?”
    “Oh! That damn dog.” I turned my head and brushed self-consciously at my face.
    “What dog?” He took my chin and gently lifted it so he could see the scratches Nelli had left on my cheek and forehead.
    “Max got a dog. So to speak.” I was longing for my bed by now.
    Lopez went very still for a moment, then dropped his hand. I realized belatedly that I should have guarded my words.
    “You’ve been to see Max?” His voice was flat.
    “Yes.” I didn’t want to argue about it, so I pulled my keys out of my pocket and started up the steps of my building. “And his dog pummeled me.”
    He followed me. As we entered the building, he said, “Max got a vicious dog?”
    “No, just a big one. Nelli is, um, exuberant.”
    “Why did you go to see him?” Lopez asked tersely, following me upstairs to the second floor.
    “I needed to ask him something.”
    “About last night?” He was trudging heavily up the steps behind me.
    “Yes.” I got to the door of my apartment and unlocked it.
    “Esther.” The exasperation in his voice got on my last nerve.
    “What?” I snapped. I turned around and confronted him as he followed me inside and closed the door. When he didn’t answer, I said, “Well, what? ”
    He hesitated, evidently realizing I was in no mood to be told how to choose my friends. As I held his gaze, I realized that his eyes were bloodshot.
    I took a breath and said in a more mild tone, “You haven’t had any sleep, have you?”
    “Not yet,” he grumbled. “I came straight here from work.”
    “That was quite a long shift,” I said, realizing he must be running on fumes.
    “Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
    “Does Napoli know where you are?”
    “What do you think?” he said irritably.
    “I think he grilled you about how we know each other—”
    “ ‘Grilled’ is too nice a word for it.”
    “—and would handcuff you to your desk if he knew you were here right now.”
    “Good guess.” He tossed his jacket on the couch and said to me, “We have to talk.”
    I was sure that would be a big mistake, in more ways than one. I was tired and slow-witted, and he was exhausted and cranky. So I said, “No. Not now.”
    “Yes, now .”
    “Later,” I said, reaching for his hand.
    He frowned. “This can’t wait, Esther.” But he followed me as I tugged him across the floor and out of the living room.
    When we got to the door of my bedroom, though, he balked. “What are you doing?”
    “Going to bed,” I said wearily, pulling him into my bedroom—and not at all flattered by the way he dragged his heels and tried to tug out of my grasp.
    “Whoa! Even if this were a good idea right now, which it’s not, I am honestly in no condition to—”
    “Yes, that much is obvious,” I said. “You look like last week’s leftovers.”
    “Oh.” He blinked. “I suppose I do.”
    “And I feel like I’ve been dragged behind a subway train.” I pushed him toward my bed. “My head is pounding. My stomach hurts.” I pushed him again, and he sat down abruptly as his legs encountered the mattress. “And I don’t think I had as much as three hours sleep last night.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said, his expression softening. “I should’ve realized you wouldn’t be able to sleep after what you saw.”
    “So I refuse to talk about anything until I’ve had a nap.” I kicked off my shoes while he watched, and then I