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“If you want to be adventurous, the black ink crabmeat ravioli.”
She made a face, not seeming to like my suggestion.
I put my menu down. “I haven’t found a mediocre thing on the list yet.”
When our waiter came, I asked for a bottle of prosecco and the tri-color salad to start. Kelly chose the baby spinach salad.
“My favorite color is peach, by the way,” she said, answering her test question from yesterday. “What’s yours?”
“Blue.”
She tilted her head. “Figures.”
“What’s wrong with blue?”
She ran her finger up the condensation of her water glass. “It’s so predictable.”
“You mean manly.”
She smiled.
The bubbly arrived, and our waiter poured us both a glass. He took our food order before departing.
She chose fettuccine alla bolognese. Not that exciting.
I decided on the braised lamb ravioli.
“What are we celebrating?” she asked when we were alone again.
I raised my glass. “How about a successful assignment?”
Her smile dimmed with the wordassignment.
I should have chosen a different toast. This dinner was meant to put her at ease, not get her uptight.
The critical period in a case such as this was always the first several days. Kelly had chosen not to bolt yet, which was encouraging, but there was still a danger she might if she got too anxious. Once she’d invested a week in working with me, it would become much less likely that she’d get cold feet and pull out.
After a week, she’d be invested in the outcome and not want to look like a quitter. It didn’t even matter that I’d judge her that way if she bailed. She’d apply the label herself regardless.
She raised her glass, but didn’t repeat the words.
“What do you do when you’re not escorting scared ladies around?” she asked.
I thought I detected a bit of humor there. A good sign. I considered what I could tell her. “I’ve been mostly on two cases recently. A set of bank robberies that could turn deadly because the guy likes to shoot his gun.”
“That’s terrible.”
Our salads arrived to interrupt us.
I forked a bite. “So far it’s only money, and nobody’s been hurt. It could get worse though in a hurry.”
“Are you close to catching the guy?”
I twisted my glass. “It’s a pair. A man goes into the bank—he’s the dangerous one—and a woman waits outside and drives. And no, we don’t have anything to go on yet. No fingerprints or faces, and nothing definitive from the witnesses.”
She finished chewing and took another swig of her rapidly emptying glass of prosecco. “And the other case?”
“Human trafficking.”
