The Second Chair by John T. Lescroart

Author:John T. Lescroart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General, Legal
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 2004-07-15T04:00:21+00:00

16

It was well past nine o’clock by the time Glitsky sat down to dinner at the small table in his kitchen.

Treya had gotten good at meals that took fifteen minutes to prepare, and she waited until she heard his tread on the steps up to their duplex before she threw the halibut on to broil in the oven. When she turned it the one time, she would smear it with jalapeño jelly, which would melt, forming a fantastic glaze. The asparagus sat in a shallow covered pan with a quarter inch of boiling water. She’d finish that with olive oil, balsamic vinegar and a pinch of sea salt. A small, still warm, dense loaf of homemade bread-machine bread—roasted-garlic with Asiago cheese—would round out the meal, after which they’d split a plate of frozen grapes for dessert.

Glitsky had fed Rachel in her high chair and for the past few minutes had been doing magic tricks, making a quarter disappear. Now Treya put the adult plates down. “Arranged yet,” he said. She’d garnished with a few sprigs of fresh rosemary. A crystal vase sat between the place mats on the small wooden table, and in it bloomed one perfect daffodil.

Glitsky put a finger on his daughter’s nose, turned to his food and picked up his fork. “Do I thank you enough for doing all this?”

Treya kissed the top of his head. “Every day.” She touched her baby’s cheek. “You gave me her, didn’t you?” She came around the table and took her seat. “Now shush and eat your fish. It’s brain food.”

“I’d better, then. I’m going to need it.” He chewed, swallowed. “This Boscacci thing.”

“At least it’s not LeShawn Brodie. I checked, and you’d dropped right off the news tonight, just like it never happened.”

“Fresh kill,” Glitsky said. “Anyhow, you’ll be glad to hear Amy Wu’s almost certainly out of it.”

“She was never really in, though, was she?”

“No, not really, although she could have timed her last meeting with Allan a little better. The real story, though, is that because of her, I got to give Diz a little grief.”

Treya smiled. “Always a plus.”

“And even more so because I swung by his office to give him his earful of righteous cop, and while I was there, I found a way to repay him for his little caper with my peanut drawer.”

“I thought you weren’t sure who that was.”

“I wasn’t, then I realized it had to be Diz. No one else is that immature.”

“I can think of one other person,” she said.

The corners of Glitsky’s mouth rose a fraction of an inch. “Thank you,” he said. “Plus, anybody at the Hall, it’s too risky if I catch them. They’re flayed, then fired. Diz, I get him red-handed and he says, ‘Ha ha, you got me, so what?’ It was him.”

“Okay. So what’d you do to him?”

“First, you have to promise not to tell under penalty of death.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Diz or Frannie. You’ll be tempted.”

“I’ll resist, I promise. What?”

A spark of mischief flashed in his eyes.

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