The Cold Blue Blood by David Handler

Author:David Handler [Handler, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Mystery
ISBN: 9780312280031
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2001-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

A REAL FIRST-CLASS INDIVIDUAL?!

Jesus, how had he said anything so clumsy and idiotic? As Mitch trudged his way back toward his little house on Big Sister, he could not imagine. It sounded like something straight out of the file on an NBA draft prospect, under the category of character: A real first-class individual. What on earth had he been thinking? He’d wanted to cheer the lieutenant up, that’s what. She’d seemed down. He was trying to say something positive. But he hadn’t wanted it to sound too sexually or racially conscious. And somehow he had gotten all tangled up and, and, bam, out came the scouting report.

I do not know how to talk to people anymore. I am a butthead. I should be locked up.

As he made his way along the gravel drive past Bud and Mandy’s house he came upon Mandy, who was busy using a rag to wipe off the pea-green coating of tree pollen and early-morning dew that had formed, paste-like, on the windshield of her MG. Her efforts afforded Mitch a superb view of her taut, quivering behind, which was snugly encased in a skin-tight pair of designer jeans.

Mandy wore a suede shirt and pair of backless sandals with her jeans. When she turned at the sound of his footsteps on the gravel, her unlined face broke into a bright, sunny smile of even white teeth and gleaming blue eyes. “Mitch, good morning!”

“Good morning back at you, Mandy. You’re certainly up early.”

“Well, so are you, sir.”

“I’m off to New York for the day.”

In response, she clapped her manicured hands together like a gleeful little girl. “Oh, good! That’s what I figured.”

Mitch frowned. “You did?”

“Absolutely. Why else would you be up and out before dawn? I am, too. Going in to the city today. Assuming it’s okay with that black girl.”

“Do you mean the lieutenant?”

“Well, yeah,” Mandy said, squinting at the unmarked cruiser that was parked out on the bridge. “Why is she just sitting out there like that anyway? Is she spying on us?” Mandy suddenly seemed very tense, very paranoid. “I find it incredibly inappropriate. This island is supposed to be private. We’re not supposed to have strangers matching us.” Just as abruptly, she relaxed, smiling at him warmly. “You should never wear anything but navy blue, Mitch. That sweater makes you look so handsome and trim.”

Trim?! Yeah, right. Move over, David Duchovny.

Mitch shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly very uneasy. Because at the sound of their voices Bud had appeared in the window of his little house. He was watching them. He was watching his lovely and volatile trophy bride talk to an available younger man. Mandy’s back was toward the house—was she aware that Bud was standing there, listening in?

Of course, she was. That was why she’d said what she said.

“You’re very kind, Mandy,” Mitch finally responded. “No one has called me trim since I was … well, come to think of it no one’s ever called me trim.”

Now she let out a laugh, a delicious, cascading laugh that was sure to carry halfway across the island.

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