Guess Caldwell was a hotbed of activity for the damned.
Then again, maybe she just liked the java here and was going to tell him the soul in question was somewhere else.
Heading over to the entrance, his boys were giving him the silent treatment - not a news flash on Eddie's part, but a miracle on the other angel's. No way that was going to last with Ad, though
The diner was crowded, noisy, and smelled like coffee and melted butter. Hell of a place for Devina to pick -
And there she was, way to the left, sitting at a booth and facing the door with a shaft of sunlight pouring in through the window next to her. The warm yellow rays illuminated her face perfectly, like she was about to be photographed, and he thought of the first time he'd seen her at that club, standing under a ceiling fixture. She'd been glowing then, too.
Evil had never looked so hot, but unlike the other men, who were staring over the rims of their mugs and all but drooling like dogs, he knew what she really was - and he wasn't so distracted by the slipcover that he didn't notice she threw no shadow: As bright as the illumination that struck her was, there was no dark outline on the tabletop or the Naugahyde beside her.
For a split second, he had an image of the two of them together from the night before. He'd tried to f**k her from behind on that table, but she'd insisted on doing it face-to-face. Frankly, he'd been surprised that he could get it up, but anger had a way of making him hard. At least with her.
As he'd departed that sweaty, rough scene, he'd looked around at her walls, imagining Sissy stuck in the tangle of the damned. He prayed his girl couldn't see out of it. God, to think she might have ...
But enough of that. Coming up to Devina, he put a block on any thoughts of Sissy or sex with the enemy or even the game itself.
"So who is it?" he said.
The demon peered over the top of her Caldwell Courier Journal, her black eyes doing a quick circuit of his body and making him want to take another shower - this time with a belt sander.
"Well, good morning, Jim. Won't you sit down with me."
"No goddamn way."
The guy in the booth in front of her glared over his shoulder. Like he didn't approve of Jim's tone or language around a lady.
She only looks like one, buddy, Jim thought.
Devina put the paper down, and went back to her buttermilk pancakes and her coffee. "Do you have a pen?"
"Do not f**k with me."
"Little late for that. Pen?"
As some people tried to get past, Jim and the boys had to turn sideways while Eddie outed a Paper Mate something or other and handed it over.
Devina uncapped the thing with her long, manicured hands. And then she folded the paper to the crossword puzzle.
"What's a five-letter word for - "
"Damn it, Devina, cut - "
" - antagonist."
" - the shit."
"Actually, Jim, 'the shit' is seven letters. Although I am, aren't I." Devina began carefully filling in a word. "I believe 'enemy' is the word I'm looking for. And you're either sitting down with me - alone - or you're going to stand there until your legs rot off and you fall over in the aisle."
More with the careful printing. Wonder if she was working on another word for "pain in the ass."
Jim glanced at his boys. "I'll be right out."
font size="3">"Good-bye, Adrian," Devina said, with a wave. "I'll see you soon, though - I'm quite sure."
The demon didn't say anything to Eddie. Then again, she liked to get a rise out of people, and Eddie was as unleavened as matzo.
Which Jim supposed put him and Adrian in the hotcross-bun department.
As the two angels took off, Jim slid into the booth. "So."
"Would you care for some breakfast?"
"Who is it, Devina."
"I hate to eat alone."
"You could hold your breath until I join you - how about that."
Her black eyes became direct. "Must we fight."
At that, he had to honestly laugh. "It's the reason we're here, baby."
She smiled a little. "I think that's the first time I've heard you do that."
Jim cut the sound right off as a waitress came over with a coffeepot. "Nothing for me, thanks."
"He'll have coffee and the waffles."
When the waitress looked at him like, Come on, make up your damn mind, he shrugged and let it go.
After they were alone again, Devina just went back to her puzzle.
"You can't have a shot with me unless you get talking."
There was a pause, as if the demon were thinking of some way to prolong the meeting. Eventually, she tapped the newspaper with the tip of Eddie's pen.
"You read the CCJ?"
"Sometimes."
"It's a treasure trove of information." She made an elaborate show of picking up the first section. "You never know what you might find."
Flattening the thing and spinning it around to face him, she stared across the table.
Jim looked down. Three big articles. One on a new school districting plan. Another on emerging minority businesses. And a third on ...
The nib of Eddie's pen pointed to the last article.
"I believe I have completed my part of the agreement," she drawled.
The headline read: "DelVecchio Execution Scheduled."
Jim quickly skimmed the article and thought, Shit, that was the soul?
Just as Devina went to retract the pen, he flashed out a hand and locked a hold on her wrist, keeping it in place.
The nib of the Paper Mate was actually on a name within the article - and it wasn't the DelVecchio serial killer guy. It was the man's son ... Thomas DelVecchio Jr.
A detective on the Caldwell police force.
Jim glanced across the table at his enemy and smiled with his incisors. "Tricky."
Her lashes lowered demurely. "Always."
Done with her and the time suck, Jim got up and took the pen with him. "Enjoy my waffles, sweetheart."
"Hey, how will I finish my crossword puzzle?"
"I'm sure you'll find a way. See you soon."
Jim stalked out of the diner and beelined for his wingmen. When he came up to the bikes, he held the Paper Mate up to Eddie.
"Your pen." As the angel went to take it back, Jim held on to the thing. "Metal casing around the nib. Next time, give the bitch a Sharpie."
As Jim went to sling a leg over his hog, Adrian asked, "What did she say?"
"Looks like we're going into the land of cops and robbers."
"Oh. Good." Ad mounted his own bike. "At least I speak the language there."
Chapter 6
When Reilly walked into HQ, it was through the back door and down the cinder-block hallway that dumped out into what was supposed to be the newly renovated, inspiring and uplifting lobby. Unfortunately, the bronze statue of Lady Justice with her scales and her sword was a modern interpretation of the classic Greco-Roman prototype, and the blindfolded goddess looked like melted cheese. Old, brown melted cheese.
The circular walk around her and the spotlights shining down from the open loggia above just provided greater visual access to the hot mess. Then again, most of the police personnel, district attorneys, and defense lawyers striding through were too busy to worry about the decor. Headquarters had a lot going on: The secured dropoff and central processing for arrests was to the right, along with the jail itself. Records was to the left. Up at the top of the curving stairs were the offices for Homicide and Internal Affairs, as well as the squad room and locker room. Third floor was the new lab and the evidence lockup.
Reilly hit the stairs two at a time, passing a couple of colleagues who were going slower than her. But as she stepped off on the second-floor landing she lost her momentum. The wide-open area up ahead had a bank of desks where the pool of admin support people worked. Front and center among the young men and women? Brittany spelled Britnae, a.k.a., the Pneumatic Office Hottie.
The blonde had a hand mirror up and was running her fingertip under one heavily MAC'd or Bobbi Brown'd or Sephora'd eye. Next move was to fluff the curls. Last was to smack her lips and pout.
All the while, she was bending forward and flashing her double Ds to... herself.
Evidently pleased with her paint job and landscaping, Britnae turned her wrist and checked one of those little itty-bitty watches some women wore, the kind that had linked bracelets and tiny mother-of-pearl faces.
She probably had baskets of bangles, and dangly earrings that hung from a little stand, and a closet full of pink stuff.