The Second Mouse - Archer Mayor [62]
He worked his fingers in under her brassiere and swept it out of the way. She let out a moan and with one clean jerk pulled off her tank top, pulling his face between her breasts.
“Jesus, Ellis, I know we can do this. We can get rid of him forever and have all the time in the world.”
She was yanking at his shirt as he fumbled with the snap of her jeans.
“Think of it. No more Mel. Just you and me. Christ, I can almost taste it.”
Ellis succeeded and yanked her fly open, simultaneously laying her on her back.
“Yeah. Me, too,” he said, figuring they could work out the details later.
“I wondered when this would come back to kick us in the ass,” Willy said sourly. “Soon as I heard he was poking his nose into someone else’s case. What’s he want us to do?”
Sammie gave her companion an exasperated look. “You know you love this shit. Why do you raise a stink every time?”
They were heading down the Municipal Building staircase together, she having turned him around in the hallway with a crook of the finger as he was coming in for the day, along with the words “Road trip to Bennington—boss’s orders.”
“We’re supposed to interview some folks,” she continued. “Supposedly, they alibi a guy named Morgan. I forget his first name.”
“Newell,” Willy said under his breath.
“Ha.” She burst out laughing, punching his good arm. “I knew it. God, you are easy. I knew you’d read the file. You’re dying to get into this; admit it.”
He shook his head. “You are so full of it.”
She paid no attention. “It’s perfect for VBI. I bet the boss saw that from the start—smelled a rat, just by instinct.”
“He got lucky.”
“Oh, right. That’s why he’s already put so much time into it.” They reached the lobby on the ground floor and headed out toward the parking lot to the rear of the building.
“Give me the keys,” he said.
She laughed again. “Like I’m going to trust my life to some gimp? You have got to be kidding.”
“Better me than anyone else you know,” he growled, but he let her keep the keys. “So what finally did her in?”
“Fisher?” Sam asked, turning the key and checking the mirror. “They’re thinking the gas from the stove.”
That caught him by surprise. “No shit?”
She barely waited for him to settle in before moving out of the parking lot at a rapid clip. “That’s where Joe and Lester are headed, to meet up with the crime scene people in Wilmington—see if they can figure it out.”
“Good luck,” he said, but didn’t pursue it, already considering the case in its new light.
“You get enough sleep last night?” Sam asked, seemingly out of the blue.
Willy looked over at her. “Sure. Why?”
“You thrashed around a lot. More’n usual.”
He slapped his forehead dramatically. “Jesus H. Christ. How many cops get to hear that—from their partners, no less? ‘Gosh, honey, you tossed all night.’ There are times this really creeps me out.”
She laughed. “Right. You really look like it when I’m giving you what you want.”
He groaned and rolled down the side window.
“You getting hot?” she asked leadingly.
“Enough,” he told her emphatically. “We’re on the job. None of that here, okay? You know how I feel about that.”
“Okay, sweet pea. Anything you want.”
His frown deepened, and he shifted abruptly in his seat. She cast him a quick glance, recognizing the signs. “What about Morgan?” she continued seamlessly, nimbly sidestepping a land mine. “Since we now know you read the file.”
He didn’t answer at first, pretending to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She had a knack for pulling his chain like that and then letting go just in time, leaving him nothing tangible to complain about.
“I read what the boss wrote. But who cares? You were right there with him when he grilled the man,” he said sulkily.
“Yeah, I was,” she admitted. “I’m asking how it looks on paper. From a distance.”
He understood what she was asking, and worked to consider it more carefully, his emotions disentangling