Crush - Alan Jacobson [10]
“They can speak for themselves,” Candace said. “Sorry, Chuck sometimes likes to dominate conversations. Trick is to kick him in the shin.” Chuck gave her a look. “What?” Candace said. “It’s worked for thirty-five years.”
“We met Chuck and Candace a couple days ago,” Brandy said.
“Karen and Robby,” Vail said. “Virginia.”
“So what do you and Robby do?” Todd asked.
“Us?” Vail said. “I’m with the FBI—an agent out of a special unit you may have—”
“FBI,” Todd said. “Really? You know, I’ve always wanted to ask a cop what it’s like, but, well, I’ve never been in the right setting. Know what I mean? You can’t walk right up to a cop on the street and just ask.”
“Ask what?” Robby said.
Todd began nervously bouncing his left leg. “Well, what it’s like. What it’s like to shoot someone. Have you? Shot someone?”
“I have,” Vail said, flashes of Danny Michael Yates momentarily blinding her thoughts.
Todd leaned forward slightly. “Ever killed anyone? I mean, what does that feel like?”
“Todd,” Brandy said under her breath. “That’s rude.”
“Yes,” Vail said, looking into Todd’s eyes. “I have. But it’s not something that comes up often in my line of work. Actually,” she said with a chuckle, “that’s not true. I killed a bank robber and then almost killed my ex-husband a couple months ago. And then, last week, right in front of the White House—”
Robby leaned forward and cleared his throat. He forced a laugh, then said, “Karen’s got a very dry sense of humor . . .”
Apparently, Robby had taken Candace’s advice seriously, because Vail felt a kick beneath the table, a not so subtle signal for her to cut it out. The others at the table looked at each other, apparently trying to ascertain if Vail’s comments were something they should laugh at or take seriously.
“Joking aside,” Robby quickly said, “Karen’s a profiler.”
“Like on those shows?” Brandy asked. “What was that one, it was on years ago, we used to watch it right after we met,” she said, poking Todd in the arm.
“Profiler,” Todd said. “I loved that show.”
Brandy leaned back in her seat with folded arms. “You just thought the actress was hot.”
“No, I really liked it, the way she could touch the clothing and see the killer. That was cool—”
“That was a lot of bullsh—a lot of nonsense, is what it was,” Vail said. “We don’t have special powers. Real life isn’t usually as cool as Hollywood.”
“But it is pretty interesting work,” Robby said.
“What about that show Criminal Minds?” Candace asked.
“More like it,” Vail said. “Except we don’t have our own private jet. It was actually proposed about thirty years ago but it didn’t fly because it cost too much.”
“Good one,” Todd said. “The private jet didn’t fly.”
“And what do you do?” Chuck asked.
“I’m a detective,” Robby said.
“Sounds like you both see a lot of violence in your lives,” Chuck said.
We keep on this line of questioning and you’re likely to see a bit of violence, yourself, Chuck. Instead of translating that thought into action, Vail forced her friendliest smile, waved a hand, and said, “Enough about us. Let’s hear about you.”
And she and Robby heard about Chuck’s work as the owner of an auto detail chain and Candace’s career in banking. By the time the plates were cleared, Vail had lost track of the conversation. Her mind was elsewhere.
As Todd and Brandy stood to leave and wished everyone a “great time in the wine country,” Robby whispered in Vail’s ear. “What’s gotten into you?”
Vail turned away from the departing guests. “I don’t know, this thing with Manette affected me more than I thought, coming so soon after Dead Eyes. I’m just on edge, I guess.”
As the hostess started clearing the table, Robby thanked her, then walked with Vail outside to their car. A heavy dew still hung in the air from a steady, light rain during the night.
“Then it’s good we’re here. We can relax, put all this stuff behind us