Cavanaugh Or Death. Marie Ferrarella
in mounting fascination.
Twelve minutes after she entered Ryan’s inner sanctum, she came out again, an even wider smile—if possible—on her lips.
“Well?” he asked her somewhat skeptically once she reached him.
“Well, you’ve got a very nice captain,” she told him, a glint of mischief in her diamond-blue eyes. “Oh, and you’re mine for the next forty-eight hours,” she added as if that bit of information amounted to just an afterthought instead of the crux of her visit.
Mike Manetti, one of the oldest detectives in the Major Crimes squad—and some felt way overdue to embrace retirement—grinned broadly at him as he and his very temporary partner passed by his less than tidy desk.
“Lucky so-and-so,” Manetti quipped, keeping his assessment clean because of the woman with the notoriously taciturn detective.
Moira smiled at the white-haired, older detective. “I doubt he thinks so,” she said as if confiding in Manetti.
“Then Gilroy’s a slower learner than I gave him credit for,” Manetti told her with a pronounced wink. “Make the most of this, boy. Make the most of this,” Manetti advised, raising his voice so that it followed both of them out into the hall.
Davis deliberately ignored what Manetti had just said. Instead, he thought of his captain and the cheerful expression on the other man’s face.
“What the hell did you say to Ryan?” Davis asked.
He’d been fairly convinced that the captain, in the final analysis, would turn down her request, which would have admittedly put him back to square one, investigating whatever was going on at the cemetery alone. All in all, that was not exactly an unwelcome scenario even though he had already admitted to her that two heads were usually better than one.
“That my lieutenant would appreciate his cooperation in lending out one of his best detectives for this rather unique and hush-hush investigation into some unorthodox dealings at St. Joseph’s Cemetery. I mentioned that some of Aurora’s most prominent citizens had loved ones who were buried there and that they wanted this looked into and taken care of quickly and quietly.” And then that damnable grin of hers returned to momentarily sidetrack his attention. “Oh, and I might have also mentioned that my great-uncle sent his best.”
Davis looked at her suspiciously. Here it was; the crux of it. “Great-uncle?”
Moira didn’t even try to suppress the smile that spread across her face. “Yes. Brian Cavanaugh. He’s the Chief of—”
“Ds, yes, I know,” he all but snapped, saving her the trouble of making what he assumed was an announcement. His suspicions heightened. “I thought that you Cavanaughs made this big deal about climbing up through the ranks strictly on your own merits without relying on the Cavanaugh name or connections.”
“We do,” she informed him openly and surprisingly artlessly.
She was totally blowing his mind. Didn’t she hear the contradiction?
“Then what was that all about?” he asked, nodding back in the general direction of his captain’s office.
“That was using leverage to get you on the case. I’m already on it, remember?” she replied innocently.
“Okay.” He didn’t really accept that, but for now, he let it drop. “And what makes you think I’m one of Ryan’s ‘best’ detectives?” he asked, using the same term she had used earlier. Did she think she was endearing herself with this baseless flattery?
“You’d have to be,” she pointed out without an iota of guile. “With that wounded-bear attitude of yours, if you weren’t one of his best, you would have gotten yourself tossed out on your ear a long time ago.” She flashed a quick, spasmodic smile at him, adding, “That’s called deductive reasoning.”
His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “That’s called hot air,” Davis pointed out.
“Potato, potato,” she countered. “By the way,” she told him, completely devoid of fanfare or ego, “I’m primary on this.” It was best to lay down the ground rules right from the start.
Moira fully expected the detective to balk at that and was surprised when he merely shrugged.
“Figured you would be,” he commented.
Moira congratulated herself on containing her surprise. “Oh, and why’s that?”
“You brought the case to me, not the other way around.”
“I’ve got a hunch you don’t bring anything to anybody,” she couldn’t help saying. The man definitely wasn’t one of those kids whose report card read, “Works and plays well with others.”
Still, she had to admit that he intrigued her. Maybe even more than just a little.
Gilroy studied her for a prolonged moment and she had absolutely no idea what was going on in the detective’s head. She really hoped that this wasn’t going to be a regular thing while they worked together. Moira hated being in the dark about anything, especially when it came to her partner. Warner wasn’t a bundle of joy, but he was very predictable and that, in turn, made her feel confident.
“Maybe we will work together well, after all,” he exhorted.
That could have knocked her over with a feather. It was official. Detective Davis Gilroy was entirely unpredictable.
Clearing her throat, Moira moved on.
“Okay, first order of business, we take the elevator down. I get enough exercise first thing every morning jogging around this city for an hour.”
“Every morning?” he questioned, making it sound as if he found her claim suspect.
“That’s what I said.”
“Why?”
She gave him the same answer she gave herself every morning. “It wakes me up.”
“Getting out of bed should be able to do that for you,” he said drily.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she quipped, her remark indicating that it clearly didn’t.
With that, she led the way to the far end of the hall where the elevator was located. She pressed for it, hoping that it would show up before Gilroy decided to take the stairs again. She wasn’t altogether certain the man would wait for her by the precinct’s rear doors if he got there first.
Though she had been the one to talk him into joining forces with her, she had no idea what to expect from this tall, handsome walking clam.
The next moment she made a mental note to ask Valri to look into his background and give her a thumbnail sketch. Maybe if she had that, she’d be a little more prepared when it came to what to expect from him.
She had a very strong feeling that even after they spent some time on the job together, Gilroy wasn’t the type to fill in the blanks unless he was absolutely forced to. And while she did like her share of surprises, she also liked to know what she was getting herself into.
Her instincts told her that Gilroy was a good cop and a damn fine detective—what she’d told him about her reasoning was true—but that still didn’t tell her enough about Gilroy the man, other than that he was an only child—and that was something she’d uncovered on her own. Most of all, she wanted to know how far she could trust him, and if he had her back.
“You want to drive?” she asked him as they got into the elevator.
He looked at her before answering.
She was beginning to think that carefully analyzing the person he was talking to was a thing with him and that he never spoke just off the cuff.
“You don’t?” he asked her after a beat.
Moira shrugged. “I don’t care one way or the other.