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“What?”
    “Don’t look now, Duncan, but you sound full of zeal again.”
    He grumbled a swear word or two, undid his seat belt, and pushed open the car door. “Thanks for the lift.”
    “I’m coming in.” Before getting out, she reached into the backseat for the dry cleaner’s bag that had been hanging on the hook on the door.
    “What’s that?”
    “The suit I’m wearing tonight. I’m going to change here, save myself the drive all the way home and then back downtown.”
    “What’s tonight?”
    “The awards dinner.” She looked at him with consternation. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
    He raked his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yeah, I did. Sorry, partner, but I’m just not up for that tonight.”
    He didn’t want to be around cops tonight. He didn’t want to face Bill Gerard in a semi-social setting, knowing that first thing tomorrow morning, he’d be called into his office for a good old-fashioned ass-chewing. Which he deserved for losing his cool in court. His outrage was justified, but he’d been wrong to express it then and there. What DeeDee had said was right — he’d hurt their cause, not helped it. And that must have given Savich a lot of satisfaction.
    She bent down to pick up two editions of the newspaper from the sidewalk and swatted him in the stomach with them. “You’re going to that dinner,” she said and started up the brick steps to the front door of his town house.
    Once the door was unlocked and they were inside, he made a beeline for the wall thermostat and adjusted the AC.
    “How come your alarm wasn’t set?” DeeDee asked.
    “I keep forgetting the code.”
    “You never forget anything. You’re just lazy. It’s stupid not to set it, Duncan. Especially now.”
    “Why especially now?”
    “Savich. His parting ‘I’ll see you. Soon,’ resonated like a threat.”
    “I wish he would come after me. It would give me an excuse.”
    “To…?”
    “To do whatever was necessary.” He flung his sport jacket onto a chair and made his way down the hallway toward the kitchen at the back of the house. “You know where the guest bedroom and bath are,” he said, indicating the staircase. “Help yourself.”
    DeeDee was right on his heels. “You’re going to that dinner with me, Duncan.”
    “No, what I’m going to do is have a beer, a shower, a ham sandwich with mustard hot enough to make my eyes water, and—”
    “Play the piano?”
    “I don’t play the piano.”
    “Right,” she said drolly.
    “What I was going to say is that maybe I’ll catch a ball game on TV before turning in early. Can’t tell you how much I look forward to sleeping in my own bed after two nights on a jail cot. But what I am
not
going to do is get dressed up and go to that dinner.”
    She planted her hands on her hips. “You promised.”
    He opened his fridge and, without even looking, reached inside and took out a can of beer, popping the top and sucking the foam off the back of his hand. “That was before my incarceration.”
    “I’m receiving a commendation.”
    “Well deserved. Congratulations. You cracked the widow who cracked her husband over the head with a crowbar. Great instinct, partner. I couldn’t be more proud.” He toasted her with his can of beer, then tipped it toward his mouth.
    “You’re missing the point. I don’t want to go to a fancy dinner alone. You’re my escort.”
    He laughed, sputtering beer. “It isn’t a cotillion. And since when do you care if you’ve got an
escort
? In fact, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you use that word.”
    “If I don’t have an
escort
, the bubbas will give me hell. Worley and company will say I couldn’t get a date if my life depended on it. You’re my partner, Duncan. It’s your duty to back me up, and that includes helping me save face with the yahoos I’m forced to work with.”
    “Call up that cop in the evidence room. What’s his name? He gets flustered every time he looks at you. He’d