“You came alone, just like we discussed?”
“Of course. I can’t let anyone know about this.”
“Good. Stay put. I’m across the street from you, and I’ll be there in five. If I see any signs of a third party, the deal is off.”
“I swear there’s nobody else but me.”
I ended the call and rubbed at my forehead. Kit sat on his haunches, peering under a low shelf where a kitty was hiding from him. A paw pushed out and batted at Kit’s hand, then retreated just as quickly. Kit imitated the cat with a laugh that tinkled in the room and drew attention to him. I wasn’t the only one who found him delightful. But he was only mine, and I wasn’t beyond staking a claim.
I stalked over to him, held him by the waist, and lifted him to his feet. His cheeks flushed as his gaze shifted around the room.
“Sully,” he said breathlessly. “You’re causing a scene.”
“I’m not doing anything.” I leaned in and whispered, “Not yet at least. I have to meet someone for a few minutes. Just across the street.”
“Should I come with you?”
“No.” I rubbed his cheek with my thumb. “You stay here and play with the cats. It shouldn’t take me long to handle this, and when I get back, we can go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I dropped a quick kiss on his lips. “Stay here and don’t go off with anyone.”
“Who am I going to go off with?” He gave me such an open and innocent look. He didn’t seem to be aware others found him as captivating as I did.
I kissed his cheek. “Stay, Kit-Kat. I’ll be back.”
It was hard letting him go, and I tightened my arm around his waist for a second, then let it fall. He watched me walk away—I could feel his gaze boring into my back—but I didn’t look back. If I did, I might be tempted to stay, but I had urgent business to take care of for Pinelli.
“Leaving already, Mr. Matthews?”
I smiled at Lane, the pretty redheaded barista. Whenever I wound up alone, she would come and chat with me. Had Kit not been in my life, she was the sort of woman I would bang once, then walk away from.
“Just stepping out for a few.” I walked out before she could prolong the conversation. Kit hadn’t said anything, but I’d noticed the way he fell silent or watched whenever she talked to me. The last thing I wanted was for him to worry about inconsequential things like me cheating. As if I could enjoy anyone else when all I could think about was him.
I crossed the street and walked up the road to the brick building with the yellow and red sign of Sparrow’s Tavern. I shoved the door open with my shoulders and entered, narrowing my eyes to adjust to the low lighting.
Sparrow’s was a hip and trendy bar that served meals as well. The drop-style curtains and filter light fixtures that were essentially from cars straddled a fine line between sleazy and classy.
I ordered a gin and tonic, which gave me an opportunity to scan the room. By the time the bartender handed me the drink, I’d spotted my contact in a booth at the far end. I walked over to him, noting nothing suspicious, and sat across from the man. He swallowed nervously, and I contained my groan. I hated doing business with amateurs. It was a sure way to get caught, but sometimes, like right then, it couldn’t be helped.
“Mr. Matthews, right?” he asked, the hand on the table between us twitching.
“My associate spoke with you earlier,” I said, ignoring his question. “Have you carried out the task yet?”
Sanje Harriott was a fifty-two-year-old attendant of the morgue where Palmer’s body had been taken to be prepared for burial. He had six kids, three of whom still lived at home. His wife was going through the early stages of dementia, and he was stretched thin with the dead-end job that hadn’t given him much benefits to make a better life for himself all these years. He was mostly bald with gray hair at the sides. His worn face made him look a decade older than he was.
“I have,” he replied. “I already sent your associate a picture confirming the body was removed from the morgue.”
“Show me.”
He fished his phone out of his pocket and swiped through it, then passed it to me under the table. I studied the photos of Palmer’s body being transported into a car. I gave him back the phone.
“We’ll finish our drink while my associate collects the goods. Once it’s in my possession, we walk over to my car, and you’ll get your payment. We’ll never see each other again after this. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t wire me the money.”
“Because that’s a sure way for the police to find out you’re involved with the missing body. You can never lodge this amount in a bank without causing suspicion.”