Though I didn’t have but a few sips of champagne the night before, I’m feeling plenty punk now. Detective Benjamin Greene sounds like he’s talking through a tin can and string. “I thought we were getting together at eleven. You keeping DA’s hours?” “Hardly.” I squint at the digital clock on the bedside table. Eleven forty-five. “Sorry. It was a long evening. How’s two?” By a quarter ‘til, I have been to Gristede’s and back, stocked the refrigerator and made myself a spectacular turkey sandwich. All I have to do is walk to my main mode of travel—the subway at Lex and Ninety-Sixth. It’s so easy to hop on there and, just a few minutes later, hop off at Sixty-Eighth. As I turn the corner, I see Greene standing on the sidewalk in front of the station talking to a man who seems very familiar. My heart quickens and I pick up my pace, straining to get a closer look. Have my eyes deceived me? Or do I desperately need that to be Bill Cotton, the man I once thought might share my future?
What do You think about Xs, An Allie Armington Mystery?
