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wig,
leopard-print spandex, platform sandals, and a crop top whisked into the
elevator, brandishing a pair of oversized sunglasses in one hand and an iced
coffee in the other. Her blinged-out nails were long enough to put a T-Rex to
shame. Chloe sidestepped him and moved toward the other female with stiff,
awkward movements.
    Correction. Male. She had an Adam’s apple.
Had to be the famous Daisy Mae.
    “Hi Daisy. I was just on my way to return a cart
to Frank.” Chloe nearly disappeared into a hug full of mumbled words and the
distinct stink of perfume.
    “Oh, please introduce me to tall, dark, and
completely clueless in the wardrobe department. Where ever did you find him? I
swear; there’s someone for everyone.” Daisy switched her drink to her left hand
and held out the right.
    Greiff shook it and refrained from pulling on the
appendage to get a closer look at the fingernails. He got the impression of
nail polish with glitter, a rhinestone or two, and black blotches of some kind.
Tiny pictures?
    “Hi, I’m Daisy Mae, Chloe’s roommate. So nice to
meet you. Tell me, what excuse do you have for being so terrifically mismatched
this morning? I swear people hell bent on the destruction of fashion had a
field day in your closet.”
    “Greiff.” His phone vibrated and he removed it,
grimacing at the number on the screen. “I’ve got to take this. It’s my
partner.”
    He withheld a laugh at the look on Chloe’s
face—she moved to follow, but was blocked by her roommate. The door started to
close, and he stopped it with one hand, giving her a pointed look she used as
an excuse to exit the elevator as he answered the phone.
    “Yeah.”
    “Where you at man? Last I saw you; you were
jogging down the street, right past the coffee shop.”
    He cleared his throat, glanced at Chloe, and squeezed
the phone. “Yeah, and I thought we already had this conversation. What are you,
my mother?”
    Rustling noises came through the speaker. “So, did
you catch up to ‘em? ’Cause the captain is breathing down my neck. He wants to
know what the hell you’re doing and where you are. You gotta check in some.”
    “I was following a lead. I’m a detective. That’s
what I do.” Neither of them brought up the reason for the captain’s concern. The
shooting had happened three months ago. Three months, eight days, and 17 hours
ago. But who was counting?
    Eighteen years old. A career gang banger and drug
dealer who’d run the streets for a decade.
    But still just a kid. It brought back memories of
other kids overseas who’d lay dead in the streets beside burned out buildings
or in mountain caves.
    “Yeah, and you also have a partner. So?”
    Chloe had crossed to the far side of the lobby and
appeared engaged in some kind of verbal sparring match with her roommate. Daisy
Mae held her hands out; fingers splayed, and tapped one foot. He blinked and
stared, realized Daisy Mae wasn’t just an outrageous dresser.
    She was in color. Two people in one day, when he
hadn’t seen anyone or anything in color for years. Maybe he needed to visit an
eye doctor.
    “Greiff.” Spetrino barked his voice and he
flinched.
    “What?”
    “The lead. Did it pan out?” The squawk of a radio
sounded in the background.
    “Ah, no. Just some lady rubber-necking. I’ll see
you tomorrow. I’m taking the rest of the day off. Personal time.” Not the right
thing to do, but he had it coming. No one would say a word either. They’d all
been on him to take time off. Said some distance would help him get over
killing the kid. But he found being alone in his empty apartment made
everything worse. “Take care of it for me, would ya?”
    “All right. I got your back.”
    Greiff started toward Chloe, wondering what the
hell she and her roommate were discussing. The look on Chloe’s face bordered on
terror.
    “Yeah.” He ended the call and stuffed his phone in
his pocket.
    “Please darling. You know how much I love it when
you do my nails.” Daisy