Unlucky 13 (Women's Murder Club 13)

JOE CALLED OUT to me from the foyer, “I’ll be back in an hour, Blondie. And that’s a promise, more or less.”

“Godspeed,” I called back.

I was in a hurry, closing the snaps on Julie’s pastel-striped onesie and looking for her knitted hat with the daisy in front, when the phone rang. I’d ducked her calls too often.

“Cindy—hey.”

“Tell me everything,” she said.

I was glad to hear her voice. It had been a while.

“Joe’s picking up Martha from the vet and I’m using my lunch hour to take Julie to the park.”

Cindy laughed, said, “That’s fascinating, but I meant, tell me everything about Brady and Yuki.”

I only had time to give her the Twitter version, so no need to go off the record. I told her that Brady had made an appearance at the squad this morning and was going to be back on the job as soon as he was able to pull a full day.

“Lost part of his ear,” I told her. “An earlobe. Four br

oken ribs, too, but he’s going to be fine.”

“Whoaaa. And Yuki?”

“Yuki is down to about two-thirds her fighting weight, which means she couldn’t go one round with a chicken. But she seems pretty good, all things considered. She’s going to take off work for a couple weeks.”

“Sure. She probably needs to sleep with both eyes closed.”

“She said the ground is still moving under her feet.”

Julie was fussing, gearing up for a tantrum. I picked her up while keeping the phone between my ear and shoulder. I unfolded the stroller with one hand and said to Cindy, “How are you? Just the headlines.”

“Everything is good, well, except for.” Cindy’s voice dropped. “Morales.”

I looked at the time. I had a meeting with Jacobi in forty-eight minutes and I hadn’t left the house.

Cindy was saying, “I still worry, you know. That she’s got it in for you.”

I said, “Please don’t worry about me, Cindy. Please? I’m a cop. I carry a gun. And now I’ve got a playdate with my bossy baby girl.”

We said good-bye and I strapped my precious daughter into her stroller.

“Wow, you look amazing with that hat,” I said. “Hold it.”

I got my phone. I took Julie’s picture and sent it to Joe.

“Are you ready?” I asked Julie.

And then I said her lines, too.

“‘Ready? It’s about time you got off the danged phone. I certainly am ready to go to the park, Mom.’

“All right, baby girl. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 104

THE SUNLIGHT WAS soft and the air was scented with eucalyptus. In fact, I could almost smell the ocean, too, as I walked Julie’s stroller through my neighborhood, its diversity reflected in the restaurants and shops.

I wanted to enjoy this unexpected quality time with Julie.