Page 32 of Mann Hunt
“Yeah. You?”
“Nothing but. Hard not to rest when you don’t have a personal life.” Charlie put his latte andpain au chocolatdown on his desk hard enough to spill some coffee. He didn’t care. “I’ve booked you for a ten o’clock meeting this morning with a woman who misplaced her husband. If you haven’t found it yet, I pulled together a report on what she said and what I could find out about the couple on the internet. It’s on your desk.”
“Thanks,” Declan said. “I’ll look that over now.”
“I didn’t book your meeting first thing this morning because I thought you might have planned a workout session.”
“No… I think I’ll skip that for today.”
“Yeah. I guess you probably had a good workout last night.”
Declan just looked at him, then headed back to his office and closed the door.
Charlie immediately regretted what he had said. He wanted to apologise, but thought he should give Declan his space, so instead he wrote him a note.
Sorry for the bitchy comment. No excuse for that. Didn’t sleep well—C.
He slipped it under the door, then returned to his desk. A few moments later, a note slid back under the door.
You worry too much—D.
He read it three times, interpreting it differently each time. In the end he decided to read it positively.
When he sat down, he spotted Luke’s card on his desk from the day before. He’d thought about it—Declan and Luke. They had seemed to hit it off yesterday. He’d thought about it all night. They seemed to have this…thingbetween them. Charlie wished there’d been athingbetween him and Declan… A thing that wasn’t one-way.
Was it any surprise that Declan was drawn to that cop? Good God, they were a couple of well-matched bookends. They could roll around for hours and not damage each other. Charlie’d be crushed under the weight of either of them… If only he had the chance. He’d taken enjoyment in cancelling their lunch.
In spite of himself, Charlie was fixated on the image of Declan lying on top of him. He tried to remove the image from his brain by studying notes on previous cases while Declan remained in his office. The thought of Declan being mad at Charlie sent shards of glass through his heart. He would have to find a way to make it up to him.
At the appointed time, the street door opened, and there were footsteps on the stairs. A woman who Charlie pegged at being in her fifties entered the office. Charlie stood.
“Mrs Mann? I’m Mr Hunt’s assistant, Charlie Watts.” He extended his hand, which she took.
“Oh. Like the drummer,” she said, mildly distracted.
“Yeah…just a little bit younger, but not so dead,” he replied, then realised the impropriety of thedeadremark when the woman’s husband was missing. He moved on. “Would you care for a coffee?”
“No. I’ve been living on it for the last few days and I think my stomach’s ready to move out.”
Charlie nodded. “If you’ll follow me, please.” He led her to Declan’s office, knocked and entered.
Declan had Charlie’s notes spread out across his desk. He looked up at Charlie and smiled. “Great work on these notes.”
A warm feeling flooded Charlie’s body. He smiled and announced, “Mrs Katherine Mann to see you.”
Declan stood as she entered. “Mrs Mann—may I call you Katherine?” Declan asked as he took her hand.
“Please. I’ve been Mrs Manned to death by the police since I reported Ian missing.”
“Please, Katherine, have a seat. Can we get you anything, coffee, tea, something stronger?”
“I shouldn’t…but Scotch, if you have any.”
“Scotch it is,” Declan said, and poured two glasses, one for her and one for himself.
“Charlie, would you mind sitting in and taking notes?”
“Uh…sure,” he said. He had never realised that he would be expected to take dictation. He ran back to his desk, quickly finding a pad and pen. He returned to Declan’s office and took a chair in the corner.
