Worst Case (Michael Bennett 3)

“What story?” my grandfather Seamus said. “Actually, who cares? Did you tell her yet?”

“Tell who what?”

“Mary Catherine, ya eedjit! See, I knew you’d forget. And with MC in such a riled knot of late. Does the song ‘Happy Birthday’ ring a bell, Detective?”

“Holy sh— . . . ugar,” I said. “No. I forgot.”

Eedjit was right! I thought. I’d blown this one big-time. I could at least have brought her back a muffin or something. What would Mary Catherine throw out of mine next? I wondered. I needed to address the situation, and pronto. I heard the tea kettle start to boil in the kitchen. Maybe I still had a shot.

“I’m all over it, Father,” I said, hanging up.

Mary was taking a mug down from the cabinet just inside the kitchen door.

“Mary. There you are,” I said, surprising her with a hug.

“Happy birthday!” I said as merrily as I could and went to plant a kiss on her cheek.

But as it turned out, I was the one who got the surprise present.

Mary Catherine turned her head, and our lips locked. At first, I pulled back as if I’d been Tasered, but then, before I knew it, my hand found the back of her neck and we were, well, making out would be the exact expression.

Mary’s unheeded mug slid off the counter and shattered.

I guess you could call it pretty hot-and-heavy making out.

“Mary Catherine!” Chrissy called a second later just outside the kitchen door.

Mary almost broke my nose as she ripped herself away from me. Her face was at least twenty shades redder than her strawberry-blond hair. My face felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t seem to close my mouth.

“Goddamn you, Mike,” she said before she fled out the doorway. Was she crying? Why was she crying? I was having trouble enough breathing. I heard the hall bathroom door slam a second later.

I was still standing there, brain-locked and blinking, when Chrissy came in. “Where’s MC?” she said.

“I’m not sure. I broke a mug, Chrissy. Could you get me the dustpan?”

Chapter 70

I WAS DOWN on my hands and knees, dazed and sweeping up, when my cell rattled.

“Hey, Mike,” Agent Parker said. “Get down here. I have news. I’m right outside your building.”

“Thank God,” I said, dumping the last of the shards into the garbage. “I mean, on my way!”

I quickly hollered, “I’m off to work, ’bye, Mary,” as I passed the still-closed bathroom door.

Was that the right thing to do? I wasn’t sure. I’d never made out with my kids’ nanny before.

I wiped the lip gloss off my chin in the elevator mirror on the way down to the street. Still tasting it, I pondered what the heck had just happened and how I felt about it.

Like I needed something else on my plate at this juncture.

“Goddamn you, Mike.”

Chapter 71

I CLIMBED INTO Emily’s double-parked Crown Vic. She was wearing a new white silk blouse and sleek beige skirt suit. With the case dragging on, she must have done some shopping, I realized.

Was it me, or was the blouse showing some pretty nice cleavage? I wiped my eyes. What the hell was happening to me?