R is for Ricochet (Kinsey Millhone 18)

Reba moved forward with trumped-up exuberance. "Onni! How perfect. I was hoping you'd be here."

"Hello, Reba." Onni's manner was cool, but Reba didn't seem to notice as she slid into a chair. I sat down too, fully aware Onni wasn't at all happy to see us. Beside her, Reba seemed childlike, animated, petite, with dark tousled hair, the large dark eyes, perfect nose, and delicately rounded chin, where Onni's receded slightly. What Reba lacked was that air of self-containment that passes for breeding among middle-class pretenders.

Reba said, "This is my friend Kinsey. I've been telling her about you." Her gaze settled on the two champagne flutes as though she'd just noticed. "I hope we're not cutting in on your action. Big hot date?"

"It's actually not a date. Beck and I had to work late so he suggested stopping off for a nightcap. I don't imagine we'll stay long."

"Beck's here? That's great. I don't see him."

"He's chatting with a friend. I'm sorry you canceled dinner. When you said something came up, I pictured AA."

"I did a meeting already. I'm only required to do one a week." Reba helped herself to one of Onni's cigarettes and waggled it between her teeth. "You have a light for this?"

"Of course." Onni reached into a small bag and came up with a pack of matches. Reba took the pack, struck one, and cupped a hand around the flame. She inhaled with satisfaction and returned the matches with a sly smile that Onni seemed to miss. I knew Reba well enough by now that I could see the icy rage sparkling in her eyes. She pulled the ashtray closer and then put an elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand. "So. How are things with you? You said you'd write, but then I never heard from you."

"I wrote. I sent you a card. Didn't you get it?"

Reba took a drag of her cigarette, her smile still in place. "That's right. So you did. It had bunnies on it as I remember. One measly card in twenty-two months. Hey, don't put yourself out."

"I'm sorry if that bothers you, but I was busy. You left the office in bad shape. It took me months to straighten it out."

"Yeah, well, the Department of Corrections had first claim. Whisk you off to prison, you don't have the option to stop by your workplace and tidy up your desk. I'm sure you have the situation well in hand."

"Finally. No thanks to you." Onni's gaze shifted slightly.

Reba turned her head in time to see Beck approaching from the bar. He caught sight of her and his forward motion halted for a split second, like a few frames of film missing from a sequence. Reba's face brightened. She pushed out of the chair and moved toward him. When she reached him, her arms slid around his neck as though she meant to kiss him on the mouth.

He extracted himself gently. "Hey, hey, hey, gorgeous. We're in public. Remember?"

"I know, but I missed you."

"Well, I missed you, too, but suppose one of Tracy's girlfriends is here." He steered her back to her chair, sending me a smile in the process. "Good to see you again."

"Nice seeing you," I said, though it wasn't nice at all. Not surprisingly, my view of him had changed radically. When I'd met him in Rosie's, I'd thought he was handsome – long-limbed, loose-jointed, with that lazy half-smile. Even his eyes, which I'd thought were a rich chocolate brown, now looked as dark as volcanic stone. Seeing him with Onni, I could sense the trait they shared – both were opportunists.

Of the three of them, Reba currently occupied the power position. Onni knew the intimate details of Reba's relationship with Beck, but neither Beck nor Onni were aware that Reba had been tipped off about their affair. To further complicate the situation, I was reasonably sure Onni didn't know that Beck and Reba had reactivated their sexual connection. I felt a frisson of tension ripple up my spine, curious how Reba intended to play the hand she'd been dealt.

Beck sat down in the remaining chair and slouched on his spine, extending his legs as though he were entitled to more space than we were. In the geography of body language, he and Onni were lined up in parallel, their bodies tracing the same angle while Reba sat across the table from them, her body an upright that cut across the slant of their respective postures.

Onni's attention was fixed on her champagne flute.

Beck sipped champagne, watching Reba above the rim of his glass. The blond highlights in his hair must have been professionally applied. Certainly, the haphazard thatch effect was no accident. "So how's it going?" he asked.