pulled into the parking lot. I have to run. The rush is on again.”
Josh handed her a double espresso. “On the house. I wish I could stay with you. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Is there someone you can talk to?”
“Yeah, my best friend, Alyce.”
“Why don’t you give her a call? Do you need a lawyer?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not yet,” Josie said.
“Don’t talk to the cops again without one,” he said. “Promise me that.”
“I promise,” she said, and he kissed her lightly on the lips, just before the door opened and caffeine-deprived customers poured into the shop. Josie felt a little electric zing. How could such a light kiss be so heavy with promise?
Josie sat on the lumpy coffeehouse couch, which felt like it was stuffed with broken crockery. She was slightly dazed. It was a morning of firsts: her first police interrogation, her first kiss from Josh, and thanks to her mother, her first date with a man who wore a pocket protector. Right now, the kiss from Josh overshadowed the murder. I really am shallow, she thought, as she pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed Alyce Bohannon.
No, I’m not. I’m young and healthy, and I got kissed by a hunk who cares about me. Why did I tell him so much? Because he listened. When was the last time she’d cried on anyone’s shoulder, male or female? She’d been carrying too many burdens for too long.
“You won’t believe what’s happening here,” Josie said when Alyce answered.
“You won’t believe what’s happening here,” Alyce said.
“You first,” Josie said. She was suddenly shy about telling her friend that she’d been braced by two homicide cops and kissed by a man who might have been a drug dealer.
“You know that Danessa Celedine and Serge Orloff live—lived—on my street. The cops are all over their house,” Alyce said breathlessly. “We expected that. But now the FBI is out here, interviewing everyone. Guys in moon suits are running around Danessa’s lawn with Geiger counters.”
“Geiger counters? Why?”
“I guess they’re Geiger counters,” Alyce said. “They’re all bristly and scary looking, that’s for sure. There are some people from an investigative arm of the Nuclear Regulatory Agency, about a million unmarked cars and some weird trucks.”
“Good Lord,” Josie said.
“ICE is here, too,” Alyce said. “That’s the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. This is really serious.”
“Alyce, what’s going on?”
“They’re looking for”—Alyce’s voice dropped to a whisper—“nuclear contaminants.”
Josie was confused. “What’s that got to do with Danessa? Did she sell purses that glowed in the dark?”
“It’s not Danessa. It’s Serge. The FBI thinks he was selling nuclear weapons materials.”
“No!” Josie said.
“Yes! Sneaked them right out of Russia. Something called osmium-187.”
“The FBI told you that?”
“The FBI isn’t telling anyone anything, especially me. I heard it from my housekeeper, Mrs. Donatelli, who heard it from Danessa’s housekeeper, Mrs. Perkins.”
“What the heck is osmium-187?” Josie said.
“Mrs. Perkins says it’s worth a fortune. She read an article in Reader’s Digest or something about how all the Russian resources are being looted: nickel, copper, gold, art and nuclear materials. About ten years ago, someone got caught smuggling eight grams of osmium-187 out of Russia. It was worth half a million dollars back then. According to Mrs. Perkins, Serge got nearly five million bucks for the ten grams he had.”
“Omigod,” Josie said. “Do you think the housekeeper is right?”
“Housekeepers are always right,” Alyce said. “Do you realize if the FBI finds radioactive contamination, they may have to raze our whole subdivision?”
“Oh my God.” Josie said it much slower now.
Alyce didn’t seem especially worried that her house might glow in the dark or be razed to rubble. Maybe she would enjoy the challenge of
Josh handed her a double espresso. “On the house. I wish I could stay with you. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Is there someone you can talk to?”
“Yeah, my best friend, Alyce.”
“Why don’t you give her a call? Do you need a lawyer?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not yet,” Josie said.
“Don’t talk to the cops again without one,” he said. “Promise me that.”
“I promise,” she said, and he kissed her lightly on the lips, just before the door opened and caffeine-deprived customers poured into the shop. Josie felt a little electric zing. How could such a light kiss be so heavy with promise?
Josie sat on the lumpy coffeehouse couch, which felt like it was stuffed with broken crockery. She was slightly dazed. It was a morning of firsts: her first police interrogation, her first kiss from Josh, and thanks to her mother, her first date with a man who wore a pocket protector. Right now, the kiss from Josh overshadowed the murder. I really am shallow, she thought, as she pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed Alyce Bohannon.
No, I’m not. I’m young and healthy, and I got kissed by a hunk who cares about me. Why did I tell him so much? Because he listened. When was the last time she’d cried on anyone’s shoulder, male or female? She’d been carrying too many burdens for too long.
“You won’t believe what’s happening here,” Josie said when Alyce answered.
“You won’t believe what’s happening here,” Alyce said.
“You first,” Josie said. She was suddenly shy about telling her friend that she’d been braced by two homicide cops and kissed by a man who might have been a drug dealer.
“You know that Danessa Celedine and Serge Orloff live—lived—on my street. The cops are all over their house,” Alyce said breathlessly. “We expected that. But now the FBI is out here, interviewing everyone. Guys in moon suits are running around Danessa’s lawn with Geiger counters.”
“Geiger counters? Why?”
“I guess they’re Geiger counters,” Alyce said. “They’re all bristly and scary looking, that’s for sure. There are some people from an investigative arm of the Nuclear Regulatory Agency, about a million unmarked cars and some weird trucks.”
“Good Lord,” Josie said.
“ICE is here, too,” Alyce said. “That’s the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. This is really serious.”
“Alyce, what’s going on?”
“They’re looking for”—Alyce’s voice dropped to a whisper—“nuclear contaminants.”
Josie was confused. “What’s that got to do with Danessa? Did she sell purses that glowed in the dark?”
“It’s not Danessa. It’s Serge. The FBI thinks he was selling nuclear weapons materials.”
“No!” Josie said.
“Yes! Sneaked them right out of Russia. Something called osmium-187.”
“The FBI told you that?”
“The FBI isn’t telling anyone anything, especially me. I heard it from my housekeeper, Mrs. Donatelli, who heard it from Danessa’s housekeeper, Mrs. Perkins.”
“What the heck is osmium-187?” Josie said.
“Mrs. Perkins says it’s worth a fortune. She read an article in Reader’s Digest or something about how all the Russian resources are being looted: nickel, copper, gold, art and nuclear materials. About ten years ago, someone got caught smuggling eight grams of osmium-187 out of Russia. It was worth half a million dollars back then. According to Mrs. Perkins, Serge got nearly five million bucks for the ten grams he had.”
“Omigod,” Josie said. “Do you think the housekeeper is right?”
“Housekeepers are always right,” Alyce said. “Do you realize if the FBI finds radioactive contamination, they may have to raze our whole subdivision?”
“Oh my God.” Josie said it much slower now.
Alyce didn’t seem especially worried that her house might glow in the dark or be razed to rubble. Maybe she would enjoy the challenge of
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