( continues...) swing around and we’re going back, ok? We’re the only humans around here.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
”Hey, just because I find your sense of humor overactive doesn’t mean you’re not *human*, Markowitz. ”
“I heard about your Bin Laden quip by the way...you know you have the whole package.”
“ You mean the ones from Mount Street? Because those are at Evidence Control, like they’re supposed to be.” She knew what he meant, but it was embarrassing. Partners needed to focus on the Job. Losing focus had gotten them into their separate stupid messes. Well, that and Photoshop, nubiangoats.com, and her big mouth, and she guessed, in an indirect way, Markowitz could blame the fact that it was dangerous to get between Captain Chaney and a camera, but they both needed to get better at resisting temptation.
“Can you really not have a conversation with me that doesn’t go back to white powder? Not that. You. Beautiful, brilliant, funny, and politically astute. I hate to work such a Hefner line but what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
She blushed, grateful that Markowitz couldn’t see from his potato sack. “Keeping Balmer safe from the Energizer Rabbit. Oh, and the dental plan.”
“Well, you’re in it for the right reasons.”
“Oral hygiene is my life,” As soon as she said it, she wished she’d said “dental”. Less potential for misunderstandings with a word like “dental”. All of a sudden, she wished she’d agreed to get in the bag
. “So, does that rap ever work?”
“I’m shocked that you find the sentiments of my heart rehearsed , Detective. “
“ Would it take the sting out if I bought drinks tonight?”she asked. She had to admit to herself that Markowitz had gone from being her load to lightening it, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to admit it to him.
“ I only laugh to keep from crying.”
“You must be incredibly depressed.”she said, and Markowitz thought he could hear a twinkle in her eye.
“You have no idea.” he said, “ and maybe this will answer your question...it’s Friday night, prime dinner-having and barhopping hours for lesser mortals, and I’m stuffed in a bag like laundry. You’re a detective. Get a clue.”
“I’m sorry I said that. You’re a good cop. Dangerous with a computer, but good.”
“You too. Even if this operation made as much sense as busting Yogi and Boo Boo behind some picnic baskets. But I’m still wounded enough to want Scotch.”
“Oh, please, I didn’t punch you. Imported beer?”
“Deal. But you, like all women, drive a hard bargain.”