HEY, LIEUTENANT," Cappy Thomas shouted as I walked in the following morning. "Leeza Gibbons on the line. Enter-tainment Tonight? Wants to know if you can do lunch.
I had made the mistake of calling Jacobi from the plane last night, and maybe gave a few too many details about the day. Some snickers rippled around the squad room.
I took some hot water back to my desk. A light was flashing on my phone. I punched it in.
Listen, LT" - Jacobi's voice - "me and the missus were thinking about heading over to the Big Island sometime in July. Any chance you can snag the G
I punched off the line, spooning a pouch of Red Zinger into my mug.
Hey, LT, phone!" Cappy yelled again.
This time I picked it up and snapped, "Look, I didn't sleep with him, I didn't ask for the jet, and while you bozos were scratching your balls back here, I actually moved the homicide case along." "I guess that'll have to do as an update." Cindy laughed. "Oh God..." I lowered my head, letting the blood drain
from my face. "Believe it or not, I didn't call to bust your chops. I've got news.
I've got news, too," I said, thinking of Jill. "Yours first." Cindy's tone was urgent, so I didn't think she was talking about Jill.
Your fax should be ringing any second.
Just then Brenda knocked on my window, and handed me
Cindy's transmittal. Another e-mail. "This was on my computer when I got to work this
morn-ing," Cindy said. I was jolted back to reality. This time the sending address
was
email protected
The message was only one line: That wasn't us in
Portland. It was signed, August Spies.
