“My ring didn’t stop anybody but you. You took one look at it and not only closed the door, you dead-bolted it and walked away like you never even met me.”

Dead bolt? What was he talking about? “I have a rule about getting in the middle of marriages.” He looked at me expectantly, waiting for more. “I don’t do it.”

He nodded. “I can respect that. But now the ring’s gone. What do you say to a second date?”

“Second?”

“The hospital was the first date, so when we go out again, hopefully, someplace nice with white tablecloths and overpriced valet parking, that’ll be our second.”

“You’re counting the ER as a date?”

“I had a good time, didn’t you?”

“My knee was wrecked. I was half out of my head on pain meds.”

“We can skip all that next time.”

I searched his face. I didn’t know him well. Maybe he was playing around. He had to be. “I don’t date cops.” It was my fallback response. Eli Weber looked complicated and I wasn’t up for it.

“You went out with Detective Marcus Jones.”

I balked. “How do you know?”

“I know how to run a decent investigation, but I only got the high points. I figured I’d wait and get the rest from you.” He backed up, headed for the car as smooth as anything, irritatingly unruffled, like he owned the street and every brick on it. “I’ll call. We’ll set something up for when you’re not so busy.”

“I didn’t say yes. Did you hear me say ‘yes’?”

He opened the driver’s door, held it. “You’re still standing there. That’s my ‘yes.’”

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Earlene Skipper owned Speedy Cleaners. She was also being sued for damages to Loretta Kenton’s five-thousand-dollar mink coat, which Speedy had not only failed to service correctly, but had, in fact, ruined, separating a good portion of the expensive fur from its pelt. I was the lucky so-and-so chosen to give Skipper the sorry news in the form of legal paper.

On my way over there the next morning, I stopped at a card and novelty shop for six helium balloons tied together with colorful ribbon, which I stuffed, with great difficulty, into the backseat of my compact Nissan. Pulling up in front of Skipper’s business on the Far South Side, I took the summons and wrapped the tail end of the balloon streamers around it, like a present, then walked inside, an official-looking clipboard under my arm.