Page 49 of Go First
She rubbed her temples until tiny points of light swam behind her eyes.
Still nothing.
Winters came by once more, this time with a clipboard.She didn’t even glance at her.
That did it.
Kate snatched her phone, the note in its plastic sleeve, thumbed a quick number.Marcus answered on the second ring.
“Yeah?”
“Still at the crime scene?”she asked.
“Yeah.Trying to stand back and make Poppy do as much as she can.It’s hard.You just want to hop in and get it done, but she’s never going to learn that way, is she?”
“Aww.You’re a good teacher, Agent Reid.”
“I don’t know about that.But I remember what it was like.I spent my whole rookie year fetching donuts for the old snaggletooths before I put my foot down and demanded some proper training.Anyway, once we’re done here, we’re going to swing by that financial consultant guy and shake him down.”
“By the book, I trust.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Poppy is young and impressionable and I don’t want her to think that your idiosyncratic approach to interviewing suspects is the correct procedure.”
“Idio-what?”
“Doing things the Marcus Reid way.”
“I’m hurt and insulted, Agent Valentine.Anyway, where are you now?”
“I’m still stuck on the references in this note, so I’m off to the Pixie Hollow.”
“OK—give my best to the Pixie-in-Chief.”
She ended the call, checked to see where the boss was on her seemingly perpetual, silent orbit, then slid her jacket on.
Badge in her pocket, she walked out through the clamor—past the lost Korean delegates, past the humming printers and the brooding Winters—until the cool November air hit her like a reprieve.
Only when the glass doors shut behind her did she breathe again.
+ + + + +
The bell over the door ofThe Pixie Hollowchimed like a toy glockenspiel as Kate stepped inside.The smell of cinnamon and steamed milk hit her first; the sight of a roomful of mushroom-shaped tables and waitresses in gauzy wings came a close second.
Gabe Levine was already there, perched on a red-spotted toadstool seat as if he had been designed for it.A neat, compact man in a suit the color of Irish moss—today it was offset by a sober, charcoal-hued tie.Gabe never seemed to wear the same glasses twice: today’s entry was a round, red, tortoiseshell frame, overlaid with a filigree of bronze ivy.
“Kate!”he said, springing up with a gymnast’s bounce.“I was beginning to suspect you’d stood me up.”
She let him fold her into a quick hug.“This place is even more… twee than I remember.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Gabe said, waving her to a seat.“Now, before anything else—prepare to have your mind pleasantly blown.”
Kate raised an eyebrow.“You finally joined TikTok?”
“I’ve taken up bodybuilding.”
Kate blinked.“You?The man who once claimed jogging was an activity for people too lazy to read?”