“Anything catch your eye?”
She gave me a look. “We’re not here for this.”
“Come on. Indulge me.”
She let out a breath and scanned the items before nodding. “How about that?”
I followed her gaze then laughed. I walked over and stood in front of a strand of Christmas lights—that were allegedly used during the filming of Home Alone. “Seriously?”
“I like that movie,” she said. “Besides, everything else is a little bit—”
“Tacky? Expensive?”
“Boring.”
I gave her a look then leaned down and wrote a number on the piece of paper. She squinted at it and sucked in a breath. “Reid. What the hell?”
“You want it, right?”
“Not that badly.”
“You’re worth it.”
“Reid.” She tried to get past me, maybe thinking she could erase the number or scratch it out, but I caught her wrist and steered her away. She struggled ever so slightly, but obviously was afraid to make a scene. I liked that about her—conscious of the room around her, even when she wanted to scream and hit and bite and hiss.
We did a lap in angry silence, or at least she was angry. I was elated and having a good time. The whiskey was good, the room was crowded enough that I felt like I could get lost in it, and I was going to win a nice prize for my wife. I still had a job to do, but I was in no hurry to get it done, and I took her on a couple laps, enjoying the attention she drew from the men around us. A few of the more enterprising ones came up and introduced themselves, along with several men I already knew, but we were mostly left alone.
After our third circuit, she pulled away and sat down in a chair. “I’m done walking,” she announced.
I laughed and sat next to her. A man standing at the front of the room announced that bidding would end in ten minutes, and that they’d read out the winners shortly.
“You know, these people throw events like this all the time.”
She made a face. “I can’t imagine.”
“It’s hard to picture for regular humans.”
“Do you get invited often?”
“Never, not before you.”
“Then how do you know these people?”
I took a breath and tilted my head. “Lots of ways. Some of them owe me money. Some of them buy my drugs. Most of them know Hedeon and know me through him.”
“Come on. State senators buy drugs from you?”
“More than one, actually. What you fail to comprehend is that these are still people—people with a lot of money, but still flawed and broken and fucked up.”
“Just hard to picture some senator coming to one of your corners.”
“We make house calls when the client is important enough.”
She rolled her eyes and stretched her legs. “Why are you telling me all this? Are you trying to impress me?”
I considered that for a moment. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to tell her about my business. Maybe it was vanity, or maybe it was something else.
“No, I don’t think you’d be impressed by any of this. I think I just want you to know about what I do.”
She gave me a look that I couldn’t quite read and before she could say anything, I spotted Police Chief Richards walking nearby with a drink in his hand and a happy rosy complexion. He was a portly man with short hair and an easy laugh that made people feel comfortable—which was how he rose so quickly through the ranks. I stood and took Cora’s hand and tugged her along after me.
“Reid—what the hell?”
“Chief Richards,” I said, loud enough for him to hear me. He paused and looked back, and a moment of confusion passed across his face before he realized who I was.
“Mr. Reid,” he said. “How lovely to see you this evening.”
“Chief.” I nodded to him. “Just Reid. This is my wife, Cora.”
She smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“How are you finding the auction?” Chief Richards asked. “I hope you didn’t go overboard. That stuff’s mostly junk.”
“Oh, I put in some good bids. I think we’ll walk away happy.”
He gave me that winning laugh and patted my arm. “Good, good. Well, listen—”
“Chief, I was hoping we could speak for a moment.” I moved closer to him, not so close as to draw attention, but I wanted him focused on me. I could tell he was slightly drunk, but not so hammered that he wouldn’t remember this conversation. “My boss sent me here to have a conversation.”
His eyes narrowed. Despite the friendly demeanor, Chief Richards was a snake and a shrewd man. Nobody reached his position without some measure of aggression and cunning.
“Well, maybe we can make an appointment and speak at a better time? This is a charity event, after all.”
“More reason to talk now, Chief,” I pressed. “My boss is keenly interested in a particular investigation.”