Dead Game by James Neal Harvey

Author:James Neal Harvey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road

26

In the morning Tolliver woke up in Shelley’s bed, feeling considerably better than usual. He’d drunk only moderately for a change, and he’d eaten a good dinner. Then they’d come here to her apartment and made love for hours. Altogether a much more civilized evening than the kind he was used to.

Now he was clearheaded and strong, and to celebrate he decided it would be nice to have another one. Reaching out, he drew her close and began stroking her warm body. She was only half-awake, but within seconds she responded, encircling his neck with her arms and then rolling over on top of him. It was lovely, he thought—the best way to start the day.

Afterward he showered and shaved while she puttered around in the kitchen, and by the time he got dressed and went in there, he was feeling better than good. Wonderful, even.

This being Saturday, he wouldn’t rush getting to his office. On weekends there was only a skeleton crew on hand anyway, which Logan’s detectives considered another benefit of working in a dull and boring unit.

Instead, he took his time with breakfast, eating a huge plate of scrambled eggs and bacon with blueberry muffins, while Shelley nibbled as usual on a piece of dry toast.

Over his second cup of coffee, he telephoned his home number to collect messages from his answering machine. There was only one—from Captain Logan at ten o’clock the night before. “Come to the office early tomorrow morning,” it said. “Need to talk to you.”

That was curious. Logan was almost never in on a Saturday, especially when the weather was suitable for golf, which it was this morning. Also, there was no crisis going on at the moment, no high-profile racketeering case the unit was working on, the kind where you had both the DA and the police commissioner looking over everybody’s shoulder, and maybe federal prosecutors horning in as well.

So what was so important that Logan would leave such an order on the machine, without a hint as to what it was about? Tolliver didn’t know, but he sensed that the general import wasn’t good.

Shelley was disappointed when he told her. She said she’d been hoping he’d take the day off. They could relax this morning—meaning climb back into bed for a while—and then they’d go someplace nice for lunch. The Palm Court at the Plaza, for instance, or maybe Cafe des Artistes.

Not Ben’s idea of great restaurants—he loathed both of them. But that was a trade-off when your girlfriend liked to dine in what she considered chic surroundings. He promised to call her later, as soon as he found out what Logan had to say.

The drive downtown took less time than it would have on a weekday; he walked into the investigators’ offices a mere twenty minutes after leaving Shelley’s apartment on the Upper East Side. Logan’s lights were on, indicating he was already there.

As Ben crossed the open area, he noted that only three detectives were on deck, and they didn’t seem to be working very hard.

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