Page 74 of Deathmarch
“It’s not like I have a bunch of kids underfoot.”
“You have a woman moved in. That’s how it begins.”
“Two more days.”
“Mhm.”
“I just want to track down her idiot ex so I can let her go without having to worry about her.”
“Sure you do.”
“After growing up with you and our other numb-nut brothers, I need some quiet and solitude.”
He liked walking out of his bedroom in the morning and not having to talk to anyone until he fully woke up. When he set down something, he liked being able to find it later because nobody moved it. He enjoyed watching whathewanted on TV.
Oddly, having Allie around hadn’t driven him bonkers. So perhaps after she moved on again, he would rethink the sacrosanct nature of his bachelor pad. He didn’t mind having somebody around as much as he’d thought he would.
She smelled nice, for one. And she was smart, good with ideas. He liked talking to her, sharing his meals with her. Her presence brought something to his life he couldn’t define. Maybe just nostalgia. Maybe she just reminded him of his youth, although, he wasn’t one to wish back the old times when he’d been an idiot little dickhead.
“Maybe after she leaves, I’ll start dating again,” he told Kennan. Seriously dating, bringing the woman home, letting her in. The truth was, when he thought about Allie leaving, he didn’t feel relief. When he thought about walking into an empty apartment after work, it didn’t fill him with satisfaction. He didn’t want the emptiness back, he realized as he drove. “I guess I could try living with someone.”
“Or at least have a sleepover.” Kennan laughed. “Rest of us have done it a time or two. Didn’t kill us.”
“Remind me of the great relationship currently in your life? Your right palm, is it?”
“Screw you,” his brother said, laughing. “All right. Point taken.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at noon? I’ll swing by home on my lunch break and pick you up?”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
Harper clicked off the call as he pulled into the station.
Inside, Robin greeted him with “Carmelo is in the interview room. Lawyered up. Could be a good thing.”
“Could mean he wants to ask for a deal.”
That, however, did not turn out to be the case.
Frank Carmelo clammed up completely. Every time Harper asked him something, the guy would glance at his lawyer, and the lawyer—a fifty-something woman with a Puerto Rican accent—would sayMy client doesn’t wish to answer that question, or some variation on the theme.
“I would like to take some castings from your winter boots, with your permission,” Harper asked finally.
“Not without a warrant,” the lawyer objected. She was a hardass, but in all fairness, if Harper was in Frank’s situation, she would have been the lawyer he wanted.
“It’s in your client’s best interest to be cleared,” Harper told her, just as her phone rang.
“Excuse me.” She took the call, listened. “I’ll be right there.” She hung up. “I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s fine. We’re done here for the time being.”
“Thank you. And I do apologize. I have a client emergency at the courthouse.” She looked at Frank, then back at Harper. “I drove Mr. Carmelo here.”
“I can give him a ride home.”
Frank shifted on his seat. “I need to use the bathroom first.”
“Sure.” As they walked out, Harper pointed the man in the right direction, then swung by his desk to grab his coat from the back of his chair.
