This whole time she’d been leaning forward, her ribs pressed into the table in expectation of learning stakeout procedure. She dropped into the padded seat back. “What do we do if he doesn’t come?”
“We skip dessert.”
Stakeouts seemed way more exciting in the movies. Jack’s eyes were down on the menu. “Why me?”
He put the embossed folder down. “You ask too many questions.”
Now that was a joke. It scrunched at the corners of Jack’s eyes and tipped at the edges of his lips. A good reporter found a different way to ask the same question until it was answered. But this was Jackson Haley, and she’d exhausted her bravado passing off the new dress as old, feeling like she’d been stood up and chomping the breadsticks.
With nothing else to do, they ordered and then Jack got engrossed by his cell under the table and Derelie thought about the questions. She had the first set memorized. They couldn’t very well sit here all night in silence.
“Do you have a secret hunch about how you’ll die?”
His chin shot up. “I box. I don’t have a death wish.”
He looked down again. End of discussion. It wasn’t the best question to start with. Morbid much?
“What would be your perfect day?”
Up came his head again. “Oh, fuck no, Honeywell, we’re not doing this.”
“We have to talk about something.”
His expression said, do we? “I told Shona to take a hike with this.”
That accounted for the flounce and the immense amount of chocolate eaten in the last day and a half and confirmed Derelie’s wise monkey decision to play it on the Maisy Brownlow with Shona. Now she wouldn’t have to admit she’d gotten the whole Elaine’s thing upside down.
“I’m back to, why me?”
“You’re doing me a favor. Can’t you simply enjoy the meal?”
Arrogant dinkus. “Look, I’m not some desperado who needs to be taken out for a good feed.”
“You said you wanted to learn the tricks.” He looked up. The smashed brow didn’t take anything away from him being a handsome late-ass, rat-faced piece of work. “This is a trick.”
Right, this was Jackson Haley playing the mentor. He was so bad at it. “I understand now.”
He went back to whatever he was doing on his cell. Derelie studied her nails. She’d tried shellac for the first time. Her hands looked like they belonged to someone else. Stakeouts were boring.
“Can I ask another question?”
He closed his eyes, and he didn’t look up. “As long as it’s not from the idiotic experiment.”
No point asking about his most treasured memory. “Why is it important to see these people having a meal together?”
That got his interest. They were sitting opposite each other in a horseshoe-shaped booth. She’d sat facing the door so she could see him come in, which meant the bulk of the restaurant was behind her.
“Slide over,” he said, indicating the center of the semi-circular seat. She eased closer and now had a better view of the main seating area as well as the door.
He quarter-turned to her and pitched his voice low. “I need to prove the CEO of Keepsafe personally knows a couple of doctors who are helping him rob legitimately insured people of their injury payouts.”
“Seeing them share a meal is proof.”
He nodded. “It doesn’t prove they’re in it together to commit a crime, but proving they know each other well enough to share an expensive meal is a good start.”
“Disappointing if they don’t show.”
“It was a good tip-off, I think they’ll show. By bringing you, I can pass this off as a coincidence. I’m just here to share a meal with a friend.”