Heat of the Night Page 5

  Then she came strolling in. And Lord, did the lady have a stroll on her. He smiled as he noticed the heads at the small counter swivel in her direction. About the only time he could recall that ever happening here. And during Monday-night football, too. Not that he could blame them.

  She sent a smile their way and asked the score. The four men all but fell over themselves to give her the details.

  "I don't think the Eagles defense has a prayer against anyone in the central division," she responded thoughtfully. "But they ought to handle our own well enough, Giants included. So unless they get their passing game in gear, New York won't beat them tonight. Now, Pittsburgh next Sunday? Trouble there, guys, take my word on it." She grinned, they gaped, then she said goodbye and headed toward his table.

  Brady shook his head as she sat down across from him. "You realize you could probably get four marriage proposals right this minute without even putting out for it."

  She covered her heart with her hand. "You mean you're a Steelers' fan, too? I might pop the question myself."

  "Steelers?" He looked properly horrified.

  Erin laughed. "Well, I see that's one less heart I won't be breaking."

  Brady smiled. "Just as well. We won't have to divorce when the Eagles march to the Super Bowl, leaving the Steelers in their dust."

  Her eyes narrowed. "You don't really want to go there."

  His smile spread to a grin. "No, not really. I hate to see a grown woman cry."

  "Oh, a funny guy. You're really gunning for it now."

  He leaned back. "Yeah, well, we'll see who's gunning for who come January."

  She merely held his gaze with a steely-eyed one of her own. "Did you invite me here to insult my intelligence with your incredibly narrow-minded, not to mention delusional, opinions on the world's greatest sport? Or are we supposed to be conducting some business?"

  Oh, she was fun to rile. Way too much fun. But her comment did bring him back to the reason they were here. It probably wasn't a good sign that he kind of resented the intrusion of business. He couldn't remember the last time fun and relaxation had taken any kind of precedence over work. Probably because it never had.

  He straightened and pulled the pitcher toward him. "You like beer?"

  "Sure."

  Brady got up and snagged a frosted mug from Miller, the old guy that ran the counter, then settled once again across from her. "Pizza should be out in a few minutes. I didn't know what you liked, so I got it loaded and figured you could just pick off what you don't want."

  Her lips twitched. "I bet you make a charming date in a fine restaurant."

  "I get around that by never dining in fine restaurants."

  "Good strategy."

  They really had to stop this. Problem was, the longer they baited each other, the harder it was for him to remember why.

  She took a sip of her beer and he found it almost impossible not to watch her throat work. Slender throat for such a strong-willed woman, he found himself thinking.

  "Like I told you, I talked to Pitts," she said.

  Well, that takes care of that daydream. Brady pulled his gaze back to his own beer and told himself to get back on the stick. "What did you find out? What calls did you have to make? Did you find a link?"

  "You sure you wouldn't rather be in an interrogation room? The glare of a single bulb? Tiny bamboo slivers?"

  "You forgot the rubber hose. I especially like the rubber hose."

  She put her palms up. "Okay, okay. You're too good at this. I have to work too hard to keep up with you."

  Business, Detective. Get down to business. And still he was damned if his eyes didn't stray past the pitcher, past her beer mug, to the way her fingers toyed with the gold chain that dipped between her breasts. Jesus, he needed to get out more.

  "I try," he said finally. "So do I have to feed you first to get you to talk, or what?"

  As if he'd conjured the pizza, it arrived right then. Steaming and hot and smelling out of this world. Well, at least it gave him a legit reason to drool.

  "Looks great," she said, breathing deeply. "I like the old-fashioned thin crust. And I didn't know they came in a rectangle anymore." Her eyes lit up. "Remember the Pizza Oven over on Third? Did your family ever eat there?"

  Brady nodded. "We did. I loved Alby's pizza. A real shame his sons sold the place after he died."

  "Agreed. Well, if this is half as good as his, Jimmy's has a new customer for life."

  Brady could have told her it was maybe even better than Alby's. He wasn't sure how he felt about her coming in and out of here when he might be here. He shouldn't have brought her. Once this case was over, it'd be better if they just went back to their own anonymous lives. She was far too big a distraction. So big, in fact, he was having a hell of a time shoving it aside and focusing on the job. That alone set off warning bells louder than a police siren.

  Then she was moaning as she chewed her first bite. He knew she had no idea just how ridiculously turned on he got over that little heartfelt moan. Which only made him all the more pathetic. He was definitely going to find time to go out more. With anyone. Anywhere.

  Erin motioned to the guy behind the counter. "Is he the owner?"

  Brady looked at Miller, then back at Erin. "No, he just runs the counter."

  "But he makes the pizza?"

  Brady nodded. "Yeah, why?"

  "I think I'm going to marry him. This pizza and big-screen football." She sighed. "What more could a girl ask for?"

  Brady refused to even go there, not even the tiniest little bit. He had half a notion to get up and walk out now, cut his losses, run like hell.

  But he didn't. And he wasn't keen on the realization that him staying put wasn't entirely because of his dedication to the job.

  "If you're all done planning the honeymoon, can we please talk about Pitts and the connection he found between the laundry joint and Sanderson's death?"

  Erin made a face. "Spoilsport. I can't remember the last time I just hung out in a pizza joint and watched the game. But if you insist we act like responsible adults with jobs to do, who am I to ruin your fun?"

  His lips twitched. He focused on his pizza. He was astonished to see a third of the pie was gone. "Damn, you really do like pizza."

  "Girl's got to keep something in her tank for fuel."

  If he'd hoped to irk her, and maybe he had, to get back on combat ground where he felt more comfortable, she didn't let him get away with it. Any other woman on the face of the planet would have had his balls in a sling for a comment that even indirectly referred to the possibility she was enjoying her food too much. Not Erin.

  "Well, thanks for saving some fuel for my tank." It had come out more gruffly than he'd planned, but dammit, he was on the ropes here.

  She pushed the pan closer to him. "I'm done. You eat while I talk."

  Probably the wisest course of action left, he thought. So he nodded and pulled a piece off the pan.

  She poured more beer for both of them, then settled back in her chair. "Pitts is an ass. But he's also a guy."

  Brady raised his eyebrows, but wisely said nothing.

  "Guys like Pitts can never seem to get past the notion that women have breasts first and brains second."

  Brady choked on his pizza. And yanked his gaze firmly away from the little black sweater she was wearing.

  She pushed his mug at him. "Are you okay? Here, have a sip." She leaned back again once she was certain he wasn't dying. "Anyway, getting information out of this guy wasn't exactly brain surgery." She grinned. "More like boob surgery."

  "I think this is more information than I need to know."

  She shrugged. "Just telling you what happened."

  "Just get to the meat of it."

  "I won't even touch that one."

  Brady had to laugh at the unintentional opening he'd given her. "I owe you one then."

  "And don't you think I won't collect." Before he could respond, she settled back again with her mug. "A
pparently the Soap and Suds changed hands several times before Sanderson came into possession of it. Did you look back into that?"

  "Only as far back as his purchase. He bought it from an Asian couple who was moving out of state to be closer to their only child when she went to college. Out West somewhere."

  "Did you know it belonged to the wife's family before that? It was sort of a wedding present to her new husband. It was called Hans' Laundry."

  Brady nodded. "I think I made a note of that, yeah. Sanderson changed it to the Soap and Suds idea and hired a couple of young people to run it. What's the connection to Sanderson's death?"

  Erin sat her mug on the table and leaned forward, dropping her voice. "Well, Pitts wasn't exactly a fountain of information. But he made a reference to the Han family's other business."

  Brady was all ears now, his mind firmly back on work. "What other business?"

  "Apparently they also own several video stores."

  Brady just looked at her. "And this is important why?"

  Erin smiled. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to rent really good Asian porn in this city?"

  "Christ. Sanderson was involved in some sort of underground video-porn deal with the Hans?"

  Erin shrugged. "I have no idea. I'm not the detective. I don't know if Sanderson even knew about their other businesses. He bought the Laundromat from their son-in-law and might have no idea what the wife's family was dealing in. It was just the sex angle that caught my eye, seeing how Sanderson was found and all. This could be a total dead end. I don't think Pitts has it all figured out either. He was looking into Sanderson's various business dealings trying to find something. Maybe he's written something on the Hans in the past, so the link rang a bell. They've been tied to underground porn distribution, but I did a quick scan of headlines in the local papers for the last couple of years at the library and it yielded nothing more than suspicions. I didn't see any sensational courtroom dramas."

  "I thought you were letting me do the detecting?"

  "Honestly, Brady, I spent an hour in the public library. That's hardly sleuthing. Probably there is nothing to this and Pitts was just fishing."

  Brady looked at her. "Does Pitts know about the porn?"

  She propped her chin on her hands, her gaze steadily on his. "Not directly. He only commented on the video-store ownership. But what other reason would tweak his suspicions?"

  "So you came up with this angle by yourself?"

  "Gina helped me." At his look, she just gave it right back to him. "Hey, all we did was look up the video stores in the Yellow Pages. Sanderson was found in a sexually explicit manner, so if the Hans' stores are somehow related, then it figures that the only sex-related thing in a video store is usually porn."

  "But you said Asian porn."

  "Well, that was Gina's angle. She figured they'd have to have some special market." Her eyes sparked. "So we dropped by one of the locations. I talked to the counter help while Gina sneaked into the members-only room they had in the back. I have no idea on the legality of it or anything, but Asian porn is definitely their specialty."

  Brady sat back. "I want your nose, and Gina's, completely out of this as of right now. Understand?"

  He should have never asked her the simple favor. He should have known nothing was ever simple with Erin. If this was more than the Hans simply importing a few overseas videos, it could mean something far more dangerous. There were some Asian families the equal of mob families when it came to certain types of organized crime. Only, they were much harder to crack. And far more vicious with their enemies.

  Erin lifted her hands in surrender. "Hey, I don't live for this kind of thing." She smiled. "Gina kind of liked it, though." At Brady's glare she quickly added, "But it's all yours, tough guy. We're out of it."

  "So we have an understanding?"

  "I've got enough to deal with regarding the mayor."

  "Speaking of that, just what did you tell Henley about all this?"

  "Nothing. He agreed that the leak might have come from city hall. He is deeply concerned about his campaign, but, for the moment anyway, doesn't blame me for the fiasco of a press conference. His campaign manager, however, thinks otherwise. He'd like to see me walk, but only because he resented my intrusion in the first place."

  "You didn't tell him about the video thing?"

  She shook her head. "Since we don't know where the leak is, I figured you didn't need any more info getting out than necessary. And I don't see where the information is going to be useful to the mayor anyway. What is most useful is you getting to the bottom of the case and making it go away. I will say that, moron or not, Pitts is likely to put this together like we did and run some kind of piece anyway. So my being quiet with the mayor may be moot."

  "Yeah." Brady sighed heavily and pushed his chair back. "Thank you for the help."

  She stood as well. "All in a day's work."

  Brady tossed some bills on the table. "What are your plans as far as the mayor is concerned?"

  Erin waved to the guys at the counter, then trailed Brady to the door. "Well, first off, no more press conferences. Not until you have something more solid."

  "The press will run rampant with what they do have."

  She snorted and passed through the door he held for her. "Like I don't know that. But talking to them isn't making it better. I will work with Fletcher, Henley's campaign guy, on focusing the mayor on campaign issues and off of Sanderson completely. Our official word is 'We have no comment other than to say this is a police matter, and we're confident they are handling things."

  "Gee, thanks," Brady said.

  "Hey, you said you could handle them."

  "Yeah." For the first time he actually wished she would take the media on for him. His head was spinning in ten different directions. With the information she'd just given him, he'd be up all night tracking down stuff. His gut told him it was the right direction. God only knew what he'd find at the bottom of his investigation. But he already had a feeling about it. A bad feeling. The last thing he felt like dealing with was the press.

  Erin stepped to the corner, looking for a taxi.

  "I can give you a lift," he said. "My cruiser is in the back lot."

  She turned, her smile faltering for the first time that night. Interesting. No, no, O'Keefe. Work, no play.

  "I, um—no, that's okay. Really."

  Brady grinned now. So, she was fine in public, but not totally comfortable being in a car with him? Apparently it was a biological thing that made it impossible for him to not exploit a weakness in her. She had so few of them.

  "What, you don't want to play with my siren and listen to copspeak on the radio?"

  Her poise returned instantly. He was only partly disappointed. As much as her occasional weak moment intrigued him, he preferred it when they were evenly matched.

  "You really know how to show a girl a good time, O'Keefe. Just a helpful hint, you might want to leave it at the pizza and football."

  "Some women like the police toys."

  She visibly swallowed and Brady had to bite down on a wider grin.

  "Not this woman. You can keep your leather belts and silver bracelets to yourself."

  "Well, I think my feelings are hurt."

  "I didn't think you had feelings."

  "Now I know they are." They both laughed. "Come on, the cruiser is over here."

  She finally nodded and they walked to the back lot. Brady got her settled in the unmarked sedan then got in the other side.

  "Wow," she said, looking over the high-tech dashboard. "You do have cool toys."

  He smiled. "Works every time."

  She only rolled her eyes.

  "Where to?"

  "Actually, you can take me back to the office."

  Brady nodded and turned out of the lot. Another thing they had in common. They were both workaholics. It was just as well he didn't know where she lived anyway. Keep things as separate as possible. He kept telling himself that all the
way across town.

  "So, how is it you don't have the requisite two-point-three kids, golden retriever and white picket fence?" she asked after the silence had stretched for several blocks.

  He didn't ask how she knew he was single. It was hardly a secret. "Police officers and marriage make a bad mix," he said, keeping his eyes off the long legs she kept shifting and squarely on the road.

  "You speak from authority then?"

  "Not the way you mean. I watched what it did to my family and too many of my friends on the force. It was one lesson I avoided learning the hard way."

  "Pretty cynical outlook."

  "Pretty cynical job."

  She didn't say anything to that.

  "So how about you," he asked after he'd just gotten done telling himself he wouldn't.

  She shrugged. "I've been pretty focused on getting my business up and running. It doesn't leave much room for relationship building." Dry amusement filled her voice as she added, "Plus, most of the men I meet are jerks."

  Brady glanced over at her. "So it's just a matter of meeting Mr. Right, then? Or does business come first?"

  "Oh, I definitely plan to settle down one day."

  "As long as he isn't a jerk."

  She laughed. "Exactly. But I don't plan to make my job my life. There's more to life than work. I mean, at some point the job ends. And if that's all you built, then what do you have?"

  "Memories of a damn fine career and the difference you made in the lives of other people," he responded easily.

  Her amused look faded. "Doesn't do much to keep your toes warm on a long winter's night."

  "That's what big hound dogs are for."

  "You have a dog?"

  He glanced at her, a tiny bit miffed that she sounded so surprised. Which was absurd since he didn't have a dog. "I barely manage to feed and walk myself regularly. I was talking about later on. After retirement." He'd make a great dog owner then. Just not now.