Together Again(13)

                She didn’t know what she expected to find but it wasn’t a TV on mute and Tony still on the phone, his face all business. He mouthed, “one minute,” and held up his hand.

                When he was finished the call he apologized. “Sorry. I asked Isiah Bryant who caught the case to page me if he got anything more about last night.”

                “What was last night, anyway?”

                “Couple found a body in the Tinicum Marsh.”

                “But you’re not working homicide.”

                “Yeah, but we think this guy has a connection with someone this task force I’m on has been tracking for months. The vic had his business card in his wallet. What’s interesting to us is that the vic — his name is Frank Jameson — works for Microsoft and we’ve been working on a series of high-tech intellectual property thefts.”

                “How the hell did he wind up in the Tinicum Marsh? And what was the couple doing there at that hour of the night?”

                “Can’t answer the first question yet. You can guess the answer to the second.” His grin was positively lascivious. “They literally tripped over him under a pile of leaves and tree limbs. We’re sure he was killed there, but didn’t get much else from the scene. There was no luggage. No car. Only thing they found in the leaves was a boarding pass for a business class seat on a flight from Portland to Philly on Friday.”

                “That must have been my flight. There aren’t that many flights from Portland. And I was in business class. What’d he look like?”

                “Five feet ten, two-hundred-seventy pounds. Light brown hair. License says he’s fifty-one. Navy blue jacket, light blue Polo shirt, khaki pants.”

                “Holy shit, Tony. That sounds like the Asshole in the Blue Blazer.”

                • • •

                The atmosphere at the Roundhouse, Philly’s distinctive double-circle-shaped police headquarters was much like the Portland Police Bureau headquarters, with which Margo was familiar. There were rows of government-issued desks covered in computers, stacks of files and reams of paper, multiple phones were ringing and, most noticeable of all, there was an overwhelming air of testosterone in spite of all the women who worked there. The only thing different was that Philly’s headquarters, like its City Hall and its police force, was much bigger.

                Tony walked to a desk next to a window that looked out toward the Parkway and pulled up a chair for her.

                “How’d a new detective rate a window, Tony?” she asked as she sat down.

                “My boyish charm?” he said.

                “You’re still getting the biggest piece of birthday cake, I see. Must have a woman assigning desks.”

                “Jesus, you sound like Theresa. We were six years old. Let it go.”

                “We were seven and you got a huge slice of chocolate cake and twice the ice cream the rest of us got at Jennifer’s party because you batted your big brown eyes at her mother. Which I’ve seen you do since you were in diapers, Alessandro, and … ”

                “If you’ve known him that long, let me buy you a cup of coffee some day,” a baritone voice interrupted from behind her.

                “That invitation to tell stories about me, Margo, came from Isiah Bryant. Isiah, Margo Keyes, an old friend from the neighborhood. She knows as many stories about me as my sisters do and since I can’t sic my mother on her, she’s more likely to tell them. This may be the closest I let you two get.”