The temperature had dropped, and blades of cold pressed against Cardinal’s face. The parking lot was empty except for three or four cars and a red pickup with a bumper sticker that said I ♥ Country Music. “Lev Bastov’s been in this industry forever,” Cardinal said. “It may be his killer has too. At some point we’re going to have to talk to some real old-timers. Get background on him and the local biz.” “What did you think of our Russian agent?” Delorme said. She pulled her hood up against the cold. “I think she liked you.” “Are you kidding? She was completely hostile.” “Funny thing, Lise—you don’t seem to have any trouble understanding men, but women are a whole other story. I meant she liked you.” Delorme looked back toward the warehouse, then at Cardinal. “No way. She has a husband.” “Touching your hand, saying she’d marry you.” Delorme shook her head. “You are so wrong.” “Well, why don’t you wait in the car a minute.” Donna Vaughan was waving to Cardinal from across the parking lot.
