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Feels Just Like I'm Falling For The First Time
"Hey Pete," the bouncer said, poking his head in the doorway of the club's office. "There's a couple cops here to see you."
Upon returning to the club, Holly and Lorna were shown every courtesy, even offered free drinks. The bouncer, David, was as friendly as could be; that is, he was friendly until they mentioned Theresa. It was at that point that he suggested that they speak to the club's owner.
"What can I do for you?" the man behind the desk said. He was thin, with wiry black hair; Steve Buscemi on the heroin diet, Lorna thought to herself. Pete tapped his cigarette on an ash tray already filled with butts and ashes.
"We'd like to ask you a few questions about Theresa Banks," Holly said, producing her badge.
"Who?" Pete asked.
"Trip," Lorna said.
"Oh Christ," Pete said, squinting at them as if the were in danger of disappearing. "Is that who she was? In the alley I mean."
"I take it you know her?" Holly asked.
"Yes," Pete said, in between drags of his cigarette. "And, because I know you're curious, yes, I knew her in the biblical sense as well."
"Were you with her last night?" Holly asked.
"Me and about twelve other guys," Pete replied. "But I didn't kill her. Nobody here did. We love them girls."
"A bit too much maybe?" Lorna said.
"What time did she leave the club?"
"I dunno," Pete said. "Two? Three?"
"Was she alone? Did she take a cab? Drive?"
"She left with a guy she said she knew. One of her photographers."
"Photographers? What do you mean 'photographers'?" Holly asked.
"Just what it sounds like. Guys who take pictures," Pete said. "Trip did porn shoots for an internet site whenever she needed money for coke and couldn't get it here. A lot of the girls here do."
"Do you know which site?" Holly asked.
"No. But I do know the guy who buys pictures for it. I'll give you his number," Pete said, reaching into his desk. He pulled out a black, leather-bound book and started flipping through the pages. He stopped at a page and started scribbling a number onto a Post-It note. "One thing. Don't tell him I sent you."
"Are you two not on friendly terms?" Holly asked.
"We're not friends," Pete said. "He's a customer."
"For your girls?"
"No," Pete said. "Not the girls. Let's just say, Jeff's got sinus troubles."
"You're amazing," Lorna said. "Is there anything illegal you don't run out of this place? It's a wonder you haven't been put away yet."
"I would have been," Pete smiled. "Long ago. If it weren't for a few key clients who would like to see this place stay open."
"Here, I picked up the mail on the way over," Lorna said, dropping a pile of envelopes and sales circulars on the table in front of Ford. "Ooh! This one looks interesting," she said, picking a thick envelope out of the pile. "It's addressed to 'Special Agent Ford.'"
"Probably Hess sending me more information about internet mail-order frauds he wants me to investigate," Ford replied, fishing through the letters. "Ooh! The Frye's catalog!"
"Well, whoever it's from, they mailed it from Canada," Lorna said, admiring the red, "Art Canada" stamp on the front.
"Canada?" Ford said, grabbing the letter from her hands. He studied the padded envelope for a moment, before pulling out a pocket knife and cutting into one of the ends.
"Geez, Chris," Lorna said. When she saw that he was focused on the letter he'd found inside the envelope, she tilted her head playfully and looked at Jake. "Let me guess, you two had lunch with a gorgeous, blonde supermodel while you were up there."
"Er, former model, actually," Jake said, trying to avoid her gaze. "And breakfast, not lunch."
"Hey Jake," Ford said. "It's from Hydrogen Guy."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Says he had a fun time saving the world from alien seafood, but he needed a vacation, and he picked something up for me in England."
"What is it?" Jake asked.
"I dunno yet, the letter says 'It's British, it's magnetic, it's fun.'" Ford tore through the layers of tissue paper and pulled out a small picture frame. In the center was a shield with a red and yellow stripe. "Hey, it's the Ford family crest."
"That's neat," Lorna said.
"Yeah, no kidding," Ford said. "It's almost exactly like the one my grandfather used to have on his wall. You know, I've always wanted to trace my family heritage. Find out how many knights errant I've descended from."
"That sounds like a lot of fun," Jake said. "I thought about doing my genealogy, but I know how my great-grandfather pissed away our family fortune. I'm afraid if I go any further back I might find something even more unsavory, like a wild-west outlaw or a dentist or something."
"Speaking of gifts," Lorna said.
"We weren't," Ford replied, slipping the crest into his jacket and picking up the Frye's catalog. "But I get the feeling you've got something on your mind."
"Have you thought about what you're getting everyone for Christmas this year?" Lorna said, ignoring him.
"Yeah," Ford replied without looking up from the catalog. "Chestnut cozies."
"What?"
"They keep your nuts warm."
"That's horrible," Lorna replied.
"No, it's clever and it's original," Ford said. "Nobody else will be giving chestnut cozies."
"You're not embarrassing me again this year by giving sucky gifts."
"What do you mean 'again this year'?"
"Last year you gave everyone pocket shiatsu massagers."
"Hey, those weren't crappy gifts; those things were expensive."
"You ordered them from an adult novelty web site."
"So what? They were cool."
"Your crappy gifts reflect on us as a couple," Lorna said. "I was embarrassed when I found out what you gave from us last year."
"I didn't give anything from us last year."
"What?" Lorna said, confused.
"Last year the massagers were from me."
"Why you..."
"What?" Ford said, holding his hands up. "What're you getting upset about? We were just dating then."
"Just dating?" Lorna fumed. "Just dating?" she repeated, her voice leaping two full octaves.
"Yeah," Ford replied, keeping an eye on her hands to make sure she didn't lunge for any sharp objects. "It's a rule. You can't give joint gifts unless you're married, living together, or one of you is in prison."
"Who made that rule up?"
"Sorry babe. It's a holiday convention."
"Jake," Lorna said. "Say something to him."
"Is it warm in here?" Jake asked, standing up. "I think it's warm in here. I'm going to go ask Phuong to turn the temperature down."
"See?" Ford said, when Jake had gone. "He's afraid of you."
"He's not the one with reason to be."
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