“Frank about?” he asks someone who I assume is a detective.
Giving Harry a bored look they shake their head. Leaving their feet up on a low desk and returning to the sports section of a newspaper.
“Nope,” The guy says nonchalantly, not looking surprised to see Harry here but not looking like he wants to write a song about it either.
I feel Harry’s body tense and then relax as he breathes out. “I’ll wait in his office,” he informs him.
Drawing a ‘la dee da’ look from the detective who bobs his head while he makes a face.
I figure maybe he and Harry have some history, but as Harry ignores him and we make our way to an office with a door, the vibe I’m getting is the same from all of them.
Harry is tolerated, but I don’t get the feeling he’s welcome for some reason.
“Take a seat, Megan,” Harry says with a professional air, sitting himself down behind the desk and making himself right at home.
I wonder if whoever owns the nameplate on the desk would be as casual about it.
I wouldn’t fancy my own chances of just walking into a police precinct and sitting at the boss’s desk. So Harry must have the same kinda sway.
I know he does with me. And I’m almost relieved when he starts with his good cop routine.
Harry seems keener to fill me in on why I’m here. And being a man I could literally listen to all day, I’m all ears.
Without going into details that I sense are gross, he calmly outlines a series of connected deaths in the city overnight.
I’m guessing that’s why he was at the morgue, but he doesn’t get a chance to tell me how any of that has anything to do with me.
A short, heavy-set man in a sweat-stained shirt and pants huffs his way into the office.
His bark is equally effective as his bite when it makes me jump as he scolds Harry.
“Jesus, Harry! A little respect, huh?” he growls. Maybe happier than the others to see Harry, but nowhere near impressed he’s set up camp behind his own desk.
“Hiya Frank,” Harry drawls, ignoring his temper. Something that defines the man in front of me.
Frank opens his mouth, ready to fire both barrels when he notices me. The change in his expression is instant.
He forgets all about Harry behind his desk and slumps into the empty chair next to me, studying me like I’m some kind of exotic bug Harry’s brought in.
“You uhhh… You found her then,” he remarks under his breath. Shaking his head a little and avoiding my wide-eyed stare as his own shifts back to Harry.
“But… Buthow? I only just left the morgue,” he whines, frowning as he folds his arms across his belly.
Even though Harry’s unimpressed by the interruption, he gives a little shrug of humility before continuing.
“I found her, Frank. Just like you wanted… Megan? This is Frank Horovitz. He’s the big cheese around here and my old boss.”
Frank gives a grunt but still avoids my eyes.
“Hi….,” I murmur, finally getting his attention. The look in his eyes reminds me of my dad for some reason.
That middle-aged man with a daughter look. And in his line of work, it’s been dialed up to eleven on the ‘you’re not going out dressed like that’ scale.
“Hello, Megan,” Frank finally says in a softer tone.
He’s got his breath back and I gotta say, the A/C in his office is bordering on refrigerated, but it sure beats the heat out there. A feeling Frank shares, I’m guessing.
“I was just bringing Megan up to speed, Frank. We can cut the cake about how I found her later,” Harry adds, making me blush for some reason.