Page 28 of Lion & Lamb

“I have some updates for you,” Cooper said, opting for a spot directly across the kitchen island from Francine as she sliced vegetables to accompany kid-size trays of pita and hummus.

“Really?”

Not really. This was one of Cooper’s favorite techniques, especially with an interview subject who was theoretically on your side. You didn’t show up with a tape recorder and a list of questions. No, you acted like a proper houseguest and came bearing a gift—information. This made you collaborators, not detective and witness.

“The team is a mess,” Cooper said. “The Sables are up to their ears in corrupt schemes, and the players are more or less kindergartners with millions in disposable income.”

“That’s not really an update, Cooper,” Francine said. “That’s been my reality for the past five seasons.”

“Why didn’t you encourage your husband to take his considerable talents elsewhere?”

“I presume you never had the chance to meet Archie in person. Nobody could everencouragehim to do anything he didn’t want to. I’d better get these snacks to the kids—”

“One second, Francine. I really think there’s something rotten with the team, and it may have something to do with your husband’s death. I’m hoping you can point me in the right direction.”

Francine’s smile—her armor—faded a little. Only now did she look like a woman trying desperately to keep the oceans of grief at bay.

“Archie liked to say that he wasinthis world, but he was notofthis world.”

Cooper stared at her across the kitchen island. “You just tied a knot in my brain.”

“What he meant was, he knew what he was getting into with the Sables. But he kept his nose clean and his head above the filth. The team had nothing to do with Archie’s death. At some point, when the media calms down and cooler heads prevail, the police will find the truth.”

“And what is that?”

“That Philadelphia is a violent city, and sometimes it takes even the best of us. Can I feed my kids now?”

“I’m sorry…just one more thing. Please.”

Francine stared at him.

“Look, Ihaveto ask this question,” Cooper continued, “because it’s going to come up sooner rather than later.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why were your prints on the gun found in the garden? The gun you said you didn’t recognize?”

Francine nodded and smiled, as if she had been expecting this question. “I’ve just told you that Philly can be a violent place. If you grow up here, you’re taught to protect yourself. All of this”—she waved a hand around her designer kitchen—“doesn’t mean a thing if you can’t take care of yourself.”

“So you and your husband kept guns in the house, and you’ve handled them all at some point?”

“When I told the police I didn’t recognize the gun, it was like saying I didn’t recognize a particular hammer in a toolbox. Why would I? I never gave it much thought.”

The explanation was delivered casually. But Francine locked eyes with Cooper with such intensity, she was clearly issuing an unspoken challenge:Go ahead. Tell me I’m lying.

Cooper stared right back.Hey, it’s not me you have to convince.

Finally, Francine broke the tension. “I’d better get the kids fed, Mr. Lamb.”

“I have a feeling they may have already feasted on my dog.”

“Lupe? Are you kidding? They love him!”

“Everybody does,” Cooper said. “He’s the worst private-eye sidekick ever.”

Chapter23

2:21 p.m.

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