I think he's used to my up-and-down mood by now, but I wish I hadn't . . . oh, well. Done's done, and I'm sure Nate will like the moose.

As much as Rossi will like the fluffy grey kitten with the big pink bow now waiting outside his door. He probably won't chew and drool on his toy, though. Probably.

( 'We all have, ah, impulses.' [Scott] )

Well, at least the apartment's clean again. I even scrubbed the floors, and they'd needed it. I should do that more regularly. Wood doesn't clean itself, and it tracks dirt so easily ( Read more... )

I tried my leash a little tonight. Called up Scott Summers, asked him to meet me at Harry's for a bite and a chat. Nathan was in the room. I don't think he had a weapon on him, but probably. Probably. He let us talk, anyway. Didn't say anything afterward, either: just sat and watched me walk out. He probably called Tom right away ( Read more... )

I signed. I didn't know what else to do ( Read more... )

Fall evening. Empty sidewalk in Salem Center, New York.

No, not entirely empty.

A woman's low-heeled shoe, dyed nearly dark as garnets, with a gold rosette above the toe, lies a few feet from a business card too crumpled and smeared by sweat for legibility.

( 'Do you know, I heard of a position the other day, and I thought, absolutely, that Leah Canto would be perfect.' [Lydia] )

Well. Not even a phone call? No meeting? No handshake and politely regretful smile, "we wish you the best of luck and will keep you in mind for future opportunities"?

A letter? Handed to me at the reception desk?

The New York Daily News can blow me, is all ( Read more... )

Voicemail left for Detective Christopher Rossi:

"Hey, Rossi. Thanks a bunch for hooking me up with that Pat kid. The beer he gave me was especially welcome; maybe I'll get all my interrogators to bring along offerings like that. You spreading the word of my drinking problem through the city? Whatta guy." A pause. "Hey, I tell you Aaron Grossman ( Read more... )

( Cut for language )

I ducked into Bad Ass after dinner down in the Village with Terry to celebrate the Times story (Page A8, can you believe it? And the photos look great; I owe Steve dinner now), and ended up running into Sabby for a little while. She was having coffee with some high-school teacher from out in Brooklyn. Andrew something. Had an inquisitive bug up his ( Read more... )

Well, that was a little bad. I had no idea she was coming over today. Did I? Maybe I just forgot. Typical ( Read more... )