Unlucky 13(5)

Claire was the bosomy African-American stalwart in the middle of our group, a mom three times over, my best buddy for the past dozen years, a woman with a heart big enough to move into and set up housekeeping.

To her right was Cindy, a sweet-looking bulldog of a reporter, working the crime desk at the Chronicle, who’d helped me bust a few criminals in her search for an exclusive story. Cindy and I have fought at times. Lots of times. She doesn’t back down until she’s tried every possible way around me and a few impossible ones. But I know her well and love her fiercely.

To Claire’s left was Yuki Castellano, who had given up private law to prosecute bad guys for the DA’s Office. She’s a bird-size beauty, a high-speed talker, a brilliant woman who has caught some bad breaks and still never says die.

I was the tall blonde on the end of the line, wearing my working-cop clothes and a sour expression. Bah. I don’t know what was bothering me the day that picture was taken. Well, taking a guess, maybe our new lieutenant, Jackson Brady, had stepped on my toes.

In front of me in real life, Claire picked up her intercom line and yelled into her phone, “Tell Inspector Orson to cool his giant heels and I’ll be with him in ten minutes. Hey, tell him to get coffee. I like mine with a lot of sugar.”

Claire slammed the phone down and said, “No peace for the weary.”

“I think you mean ‘No rest for the wicked.’”

“That, too.”

The phone on her desk rang.

“Don’t take that, okay?” I said. “What do you make of this ingestible bomb?”

“Well,” said Claire. She uncapped a bottle of water and took a really long pull. Then she said, “Since you ask, I believe this belly bomb was as personal as a knife.”

“Meaning?”

“It was a micro-bomb so it was easy to disguise. Limited impact because it was only meant to kill one person at a time.”

“So these kids were targeted?”

“Not necessarily. Could have been random. Remember the psycho who put cyanide inside Tylenol capsules.”

“So those one-person bombs were a kind of message?”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Claire. “Both of us go to the head of the class.”





CHAPTER 4


CLAIRE’S ASSISTANT, TASHA, appeared in the doorway of Claire’s office and changed the subject big-time.

She said, “Yuki Castellano is on line five. Wants to speak to both of you. She said, and I quote: ‘If you don’t put them on the phone, you’ll be sorry you came to work today.’ Unquote. She was kidding, right, Dr. Washburn?”

“Was she laughing?” Claire asked.

“Well, yeah. The cutest laugh I ever heard.”

Although Yuki was our resident bad news bear, she’d been quite merry lately. She’d won a couple of cases and was getting along well with her big hunk of burning love boyfriend.

Tasha shot a look at me. “Doctor, all of your friends try to walk right over me.”

Claire said, “That’s them teaching you to push back. Thank you, Tasha.” Then she stabbed a button, putting Yuki on speaker.

Yuki chirped, “I knew you two were together, goofing off, eating doughnuts, drinking coffee, livin’ la vida loca.”

“Are you high, sweetie?” Claire asked.

“You bet I am. Love makes me a little goofy.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” I said.

“Okay, how’s this? Brady and I are getting married.”

Yuki let loose one of her trademark delightful merry-bells chortles. There was a long pause as Claire and I stared at each other across Claire’s desk, just trying to comprehend what Yuki had said.

Claire recovered first.

“Did I hear you right, Yuki?” she said. “You’re not fooling with us, are you?”

“I’m at the bridal shop. Right this minute.”

I had just gotten used to Yuki dating my boss—now she was marrying him? Well, never mind the kink their relationship had put in the chain of command. Yuki was getting married.

“Oh. My. God,” I said, “Did you expect this? Or were you surprised by what could be the best news of the year?”

“Sur-prised!” she shrieked. “Brady’s divorce came through. So he just hangs up with his lawyer, rolls over in bed, and he says to me, ‘Nothing to stop us now.’”

Yuki treated us to another round of happy-over-the-moon laughter, then took a breath and chirped, “We’re saying the I do’s on Saturday.”

I said into the speaker phone, “Saturday? What Saturday? This Saturday?”

“Yes. So listen, I hired this great wedding planner, and all you girls have to do is put on the dresses and show up. Details to follow.”