Chapter 32
Over the set of flickering candles between us, he winks at me, digging into his meat. He closes his eyes, groaning. “This is delicious.”
“What happened down at the station?” I ask.
He reaches for his wine glass. “I can’t talk about my cases—”
“I’m your partner.”
He nods, chews, and swallows. He sets his fork down by his plate and looks up at me. His hands folded in front of him, as if he was going to pray. “We’ve uncovered a methamphetamine lab at an apartment building along the interstate. The goods were padlocked in a shed behind the building.”
Between bites, I ask, “Any suspects?”
“Plenty. It’s going to be a long week.”
“You have to work during the holidays?”
“It’s my job.”
“What about our families?”
Philip stabs a morsel of meat with his fork and pops it into his mouth.
Darth Vader lies by Philip’s feet, begging, whining for a piece of beef. Philip ignores the dog. “I’ll be here and there for the first few hours of the case. Don’t worry. I’ll be here for Christmas.”