Is there something that a couple of detectives know about my new neighbors that a father and a husband with responsibilities would want to know, too?"
Sam hesitated again. Only seconds, but still. God damn, I thought.
No more than three seconds later than he should have, he finally said, "You're good . . . on that."
Sam lied to me. What the hell happened during that party? "But your visit here today had to do with last night. I'm basing that assumption on your question about whether or not I was home."
Sam didn't reply. "Diane and Raoul were at the party, Sam. Diane will tell me every last detail. You know her. Once I ask her how the housewarming went, the only way I won't know what happened is to put fingers in both my ears and sing la-la-la-la-la until she stops talking."
"Diane and Raoul were there?"
Sam hadn't known that? Huh? "They're friends with our new neighbors."
He said, "Doesn't matter. I think you'll find that Diane's natural inclination to gossip is on hold. Let it go, my friend. You don't have the finesse to play in this league."
"Should I be insulted?"
"No," he said. "It's not a nice league."
"I'll consider your advice. As a friend." Sam laughed. "You were a little out of your jurisdiction up here," I said.
"Things get confused sometimes," he said. "Police work isn't always science."
"What is it? Art?"
"Some art. Mostly just not science."
"What about forensics?"
"That's the part that's science. But they don't pay me to do the science. They pay me to do the analytical part, the art. They don't pay me much, but . . . hey, I got work."
"Even, it turns out, when the work is out of your jurisdiction," I said.
I didn't expect to get any more of an explanation from Sam about the jurisdiction issues beyond his "things get confused" headline, but it turned out that he was willing to add some detail. "Complainant came into 33rd. Thought the events in question took place in Boulder. Almost nobody in Boulder knows where Boulder begins and Boulder ends. People think Boulder's bigger than it is. Gotta be a metaphor there." I was tempted to chime in, but Sam was on a roll that I didn't want to interrupt. "But since the person in question didn't know the city limits and didn't have a street address for the residence . . . we didn't know to hand off to the sheriff. By the time Lucy got it sorted out--and discovered that the cul-de-sac in question is in the county--I'd already screwed my Saturday."
"I prefer to think of our lane as a dead end. Not a cul-de-sac."
"Call it whatever you want. But I did get a chance to see your lovely wife." Sam paused right there. "She's still moving . . . I don't know, slowly."
"She's kind of plateaued, Sam. Mobility-wise. The recovery has been more gradual than we'd like."
"Give her more time. Healing? It's about time."
Sam knew a little about the slow healing of significant others.
"I want to make sure I get it--you and Lucy are off this case? It's the sheriff's?"
"You got it."
"Just tell me why I don't want to know what happened. Why all the secrecy?"
"Ever noticed we don't say a whole lot about active investigations? That includes to neighbors, in case you're feeling special. Trust me on this--you're better off not knowing any more than you know."
"Lauren will find out, Sam. Someone in her office already knows."
"If she finds out, she finds out. But she's too smart to tell you."
"Sam, I have kids," I said. "A wife who's home a lot. By herself. I need to know if I should be concerned. You hesitated earlier."
"How well do you know your new neighbors?"
"Barely. Not at all. I know him like you know him. From TV."
"Lucy told me he's a daytime TV darling of some kind. I don't watch a lot of daytime TV. I never, ever watch television darlings."
"Okay."
"Keep things the way they are. Your family will be fine. Understand?"
"No."
"Tough shit."
11
A t supervision on the Monday morning after the housewarming, Hella Zoet began by telling me she needed to talk, once
Sam hesitated again. Only seconds, but still. God damn, I thought.
No more than three seconds later than he should have, he finally said, "You're good . . . on that."
Sam lied to me. What the hell happened during that party? "But your visit here today had to do with last night. I'm basing that assumption on your question about whether or not I was home."
Sam didn't reply. "Diane and Raoul were at the party, Sam. Diane will tell me every last detail. You know her. Once I ask her how the housewarming went, the only way I won't know what happened is to put fingers in both my ears and sing la-la-la-la-la until she stops talking."
"Diane and Raoul were there?"
Sam hadn't known that? Huh? "They're friends with our new neighbors."
He said, "Doesn't matter. I think you'll find that Diane's natural inclination to gossip is on hold. Let it go, my friend. You don't have the finesse to play in this league."
"Should I be insulted?"
"No," he said. "It's not a nice league."
"I'll consider your advice. As a friend." Sam laughed. "You were a little out of your jurisdiction up here," I said.
"Things get confused sometimes," he said. "Police work isn't always science."
"What is it? Art?"
"Some art. Mostly just not science."
"What about forensics?"
"That's the part that's science. But they don't pay me to do the science. They pay me to do the analytical part, the art. They don't pay me much, but . . . hey, I got work."
"Even, it turns out, when the work is out of your jurisdiction," I said.
I didn't expect to get any more of an explanation from Sam about the jurisdiction issues beyond his "things get confused" headline, but it turned out that he was willing to add some detail. "Complainant came into 33rd. Thought the events in question took place in Boulder. Almost nobody in Boulder knows where Boulder begins and Boulder ends. People think Boulder's bigger than it is. Gotta be a metaphor there." I was tempted to chime in, but Sam was on a roll that I didn't want to interrupt. "But since the person in question didn't know the city limits and didn't have a street address for the residence . . . we didn't know to hand off to the sheriff. By the time Lucy got it sorted out--and discovered that the cul-de-sac in question is in the county--I'd already screwed my Saturday."
"I prefer to think of our lane as a dead end. Not a cul-de-sac."
"Call it whatever you want. But I did get a chance to see your lovely wife." Sam paused right there. "She's still moving . . . I don't know, slowly."
"She's kind of plateaued, Sam. Mobility-wise. The recovery has been more gradual than we'd like."
"Give her more time. Healing? It's about time."
Sam knew a little about the slow healing of significant others.
"I want to make sure I get it--you and Lucy are off this case? It's the sheriff's?"
"You got it."
"Just tell me why I don't want to know what happened. Why all the secrecy?"
"Ever noticed we don't say a whole lot about active investigations? That includes to neighbors, in case you're feeling special. Trust me on this--you're better off not knowing any more than you know."
"Lauren will find out, Sam. Someone in her office already knows."
"If she finds out, she finds out. But she's too smart to tell you."
"Sam, I have kids," I said. "A wife who's home a lot. By herself. I need to know if I should be concerned. You hesitated earlier."
"How well do you know your new neighbors?"
"Barely. Not at all. I know him like you know him. From TV."
"Lucy told me he's a daytime TV darling of some kind. I don't watch a lot of daytime TV. I never, ever watch television darlings."
"Okay."
"Keep things the way they are. Your family will be fine. Understand?"
"No."
"Tough shit."
11
A t supervision on the Monday morning after the housewarming, Hella Zoet began by telling me she needed to talk, once
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