Page 68 of Lion & Lamb

Cooper put his hand on the gear shift, ready to spring into action whenever Bernstein hit the gas. But he lingered. Bernstein and Maya were talking aboutsomething,their faces only inches apart.

He wished he could go back in time and have Victor wire Bernstein’s car for sound. “Memo to self,” Cooper mumbled. “Have Victor invent time machine, then travel back and bug Mickey’s ride.”

For a fleeting second, Cooper considered the direct approach—running up to the car, pounding on the windshield, smiling, and making aRoll down your windowgesture—just to see where the conversation took them.

But Bernstein would most likely give him the finger and peel off down the alley. Besides, Cooper’s sole advantage was that neither Mickey nor Maya knew Cooper was there. So he would flip a coin at the end of the alley and try to follow them. Maybe their destination would tell him everything he needed to know.

But there was one thing Cooper Lamb wasn’t prepared for.

Maya moving closer to Bernstein and giving him a long, slow, deep kiss.

A nuke went off in Cooper’s skull, and his senses fuzzed out for a moment. Was he actually seeing this? Son of a bitch!

Okay, there was no way Detective Mickey was Maya’s sugar daddy. Not unless he had a small fortune tucked away in a metal box under some floorboards somewhere. Cooper knew what homicide detectives took home, and he could not float Maya’s apartment on top of his own house.

But forget all of that for now.

Why the hell was Mickey Bernstein heading up this investigation?

Before Cooper had a chance to consider that question, the white Bronco rocketed down the alley.

This was it.

Time to toss that coin.

Chapter70

COOPER LAMB / VOICE MEMO #20127-735 (continued)

I am currently in hot pursuit of Mickey Bernstein, big-deal homicide detective.

I’m recording all of this just in case something…well, weird happens. This is Philadelphia, after all. And everybody’s been telling me to watch my back. So maybe a recording of these next few minutes will come in handy for the person investigating my murder.

Please, don’t let me be murdered.

Victor, if I am murdered, avenge me.

I guessed correctly, by the way. Mickey turned right, heading toward Sansom Street, which means he’s going to the Linc or the Main Line.

Victor, I don’t know if you’re listening to this in real time or not, but in case you are, work your magic. Tell me where Bernstein is headed.

Okay, you must be busy. No magic for now. I have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Bernstein is continuing down Sansom Street. At some point he has to turn, otherwise he’s headed into the river. I am following close behind. But not too close. Bernstein is police, and he knows when he’s being followed.

Okay, he’s taking a right on Twenty-Second Street, which makes sense. This will take him to the on-ramps for the interstate and then to everybody’s least favorite highway, the Schuylkill Expressway. Ah, Mickey, but are you taking the freeway west, out of your jurisdiction and into the chilly embrace of the Main Line? Or are you taking it east, down to the Linc?

The next few minutes will tell us everything…

Oh, s---.

I think he spotted me.

S—, s—, s—.

This isnotgood, Victor.

If Bernstein saw me, all he has to do is call it in, and within a minute I’ll be pulled over, and who knows how that might go? At best, I’ll be slapped with a dozen tickets for fictional violations. At worst, I’ll end up…

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