Page 10 of Script Swap
Bobby gave me that anti-chaos-kitten look again.“That’s not a fair question.The questions are multiple choice.”
“I do what I please,” I said in my best imitation of Fox.“And the universe finds a way.”
After several seconds, Bobby said, “It’s orange shag.There’s at least one clear footprint in front of the safe, but I don’t know if we could recover anything from it that would be usable.”
“Okay, what about the safe?”
Bobby was slower this time, thinking.He was so careful.So thoughtful.I watched him sit there, unmoving, his brain at work, like he’d put his whole body in service of answering this question.He was going to be such a good detective.God, he was going to be such a good sheriff one day.(I had plans, even if I hadn’t exactlytoldBobby yet.I was going to wait a good ten or fifteen years until I’d trapped him with a passel of kids.)
(Oh my God, I cannot believe I said that.)
(Please don’t tell Bobby.)
“The door has been left open, but it doesn’t appear to be forced.That means the thief might have had the means to open the safe, but I’d also want to check for scratches around the lock to see if someone attempted to pick it or disable it.And since our thief got careless, I’d also want to run the fingerprints through AFIS and see if we got a match, since that wasn’t an option back then.”
“Very good, Detective Mai.You only forgot one thing.”
His brow furrowed in what might have been a trademark Bobby Mai expression: indignation and concern.“What?”
In my best evil villain voice, I said, “You forgot you should never have come to my lair alone.”
And then I launched myself at him.I scrunched up alotof papers, for the record.But I also did a lot of kissing.
Bobby rolled with it—literally, in this case, rocking backward so that we ended up flat on the mattress.He laughed.A little.He kissed me back.
After a while, I stopped.
We lay there.Somehow, I’d ended up in the circle of his arms, and he rubbed my back.His breathing was soft and even and tickled the side of my neck.
The worst part was that I couldn’t even say what was wrong.Just that it was different.Everything was different.
After a while, he brushed his lips against my ear and disentangled himself.He was halfway to the bathroom when a knock came at the door.
Bobby glanced at me.I shrugged, so he padded over and opened it.
Fox stood there.They’d changed into some kind of dressing gown.With a matching nightcap.And they were carrying a tray of cookies—Indira’s garbage cookies, which—name to the contrary—weren’t garbage at all.(They’re full of deliciousness like M&M’s and chocolate chips and little pieces of candy bars that she chopped up.)
Fox gave me a look.
Disheveled.
Sprawled out on the mattress.
They said, “Good Lord!”
“It’s not what it looks like!”
“It looks like you were fornicating on top of your manuscript!”
“No!No!This isn’t my manuscript.This is—”
But that was when I grabbed one of the crime scene pictures.
Fox’s.jaw.dropped.
“No!”I shouted.
“Okay,” Bobby said.“Fox, did you need something?Besides the chance to tease Dash?”
