The Investigators (Badge of Honor 7)

“We don’t have a romance.”

“You wouldn’t want to break your mommy’s heart, would you? From the way she was looking at me, she’s already making up the guest list for our marriage.”

“That’s not true!”

“ ‘The truth is a shattered mirror strewn in myriad bits, and each believes his little bit the whole to own,’ ” Matt quoted, and when Susan gave him an incredulous look, added, “That’s from the Kasidah of Haji Abu el Yezdi—in my judgment, one of the wiser Persian philosophers.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

“So my mother tells me,” Matt said.

“What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go in the bar and have a couple of quick stiff ones,” Matt said. “ ‘Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.’ I believe Mr. Ogden Nash said that.”

Susan shook her head again. “One drink,” she said.

“Three. We can then compromise on two.”

Without replying, she walked toward what turned out to be the bar. It was a large, dark, and comfortable room, with a bar along one paneled wall, and tables with red leather-cushioned captain’s chairs scattered around t

he room.

Matt did not miss the eight or ten attractive young women in the room, sitting in groups of two or three at tables and at the bar.

Maybe I should have let her get away. I think the odds to make out in here look pretty good. My chances with Susie range from lousy to zip.

Not that I would, anyway. Could, anyway. Peter was right about that.

I will not, Boy Scout’s honor, make that mistake.

A waiter appeared as soon as they sat down.

“Good evening, Miss Reynolds,” he said.

“What do you drink, Matt?” Susan asked. “Let your imagination run loose. Da—my father will expect me to make this my treat.”

“Daddy’s going to pay?” Matt asked.

“That’s what I said.”

“Would you bring us the wine list, please?” Matt said.

“The wine list?” Susan asked incredulously.

“It’s a list of the available fermented grape juices,” Matt said seriously, “generally stapled into some kind of artificial leather folder.”

“Miss Reynolds?” the waiter asked in confusion.

“Go get the wine list,” Matt ordered. “If the lady’s going to welsh on her offer to spring for the booze, I’ll pay for it myself.”

“Get the wine list, please,” Susan said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Susan looked at him.

“I don’t think your insanity comes naturally,” she said. “I suspect you actually think you’re amusing, and really work on your crazy-man routine.”