To Catch the Moon by Diana Dempsey Page A

by a
three-wheeled tuk-tuk taxi was a daredevil exercise. Maui,
for the sunset, where the sky glowed pink and purple and you could
swear you’d glimpsed heaven. Even his favorite Upper West Side cafe
with the endless Sunday brunch lines, where snow or sun you’d stand
outside waiting for a table because the prospect of buttermilk
pancakes and the New York Times was just too good to pass
up.
    Some of the football watchers let out a
cheer, dragging Alicia’s eyes away from his. “Game’s over,
apparently,” she said.
    “Judging from the reaction, I guess the good
guys won.”
    “I wish it was always that easy.”
    “Come on.” He smiled at her. “Is that Alicia
Maldonado talking? Or the cynical prosecutor?”
    “They’re one and the same.”
    “Somehow I don’t believe that.”
    She rolled her eyes. Milo realized he was
enjoying himself more than he’d expected to. He didn’t know quite
what to make of this woman. She didn’t fit into any of the usual
categories. “I’m glad,” he said, idly trailing a finger through the
condensation on his beer bottle, “that you’ve realized I’m not the
enemy.”
    She arched an eyebrow. “You thought you
were?”
    “Well, you gave me kind of a hard time at the
press conference.”
    “No, I didn’t. I just treated you like any
other reporter. That’s what you didn’t like.”
    He laughed so loudly some of the football
watchers looked over. “You’re right! You’re absolutely right.” He
lowered his voice. “I was hoping you might give me special
treatment.”
    “You flatter yourself.”
    “That’s a lot easier than waiting for
somebody else to do it.”
    Then it was her turn to laugh, and he
watched, pleased to have been the cause. They were silent for a
while, sipping their beers, then he spoke up. “Well, I suppose I
should ask you at least a few probing questions about Daniel
Gaines’ murder.”
    “Aren’t you done with that yet?”
    “Not yet.” He shook his head. “I have to
stick to my game plan even though I don’t much feel like it. I’m
having too good a time.”
    “Well, that’s too bad. For you, anyway.
Because I could tell you a thing or two.”
    He was surprised. Apparently he had succeeded
in warming her up a bit. He forced himself to climb out of the
pleasant stupor created by beer, repartee with a beautiful woman,
and a roaring fire. He decided to ask a stupid, leading question,
which occasionally elicited a valuable, explanatory response. “So
isn’t this about the most boring case in the world? I mean, apart
from the fact that the victim was a candidate for governor of
California, isn’t it just so obvious who did it?”
    She sighed. “You know the first people the
police look to in a murder?”
    “Tell me.”
    “Spouse. Family. Friends. Almost always it’s
somebody close to the victim.”
    He’d known that. “But that’s not true
here.”
    She frowned. “Why do you say that?”
    “Well...” He laughed. “ Spouse? You
think Joan Gaines would shoot her husband with an arrow?”
    “Why not? Is she somehow less likely than
other spouses?”
    “Well, frankly, yes.” He hesitated, then,
“People like Joan Gaines don’t go around murdering their
husbands.”
    He watched Alicia narrow her eyes at him. The
fire in the grate roared as fiercely as ever, yet all at once the
air seemed to chill. “You mean because she’s from a wealthy family?
Because she’s the daughter of a governor?”
    That was pretty much what he’d meant, but he
hesitated to spell it out. While he was debating what to say,
Alicia resumed speaking.
    “You know, murderers come from all walks of
life. It’s not just the poor who kill.”
    “I’m not suggesting it is. I’m merely
pointing out that Joan Gaines is a good woman from a good family
and she would never—”
    “How do you know she’s a good woman?”
    Damn . This was the last thing he
wanted to get into.
    “Do you know her?” she demanded. Milo had a
sudden understanding of what