44
“IT WAS NICE OF HER to come.”
“Yeah, she’s good like that.”
Nick’s friend, Hank, stood with him in the grass of Holy Cross Cemetery. The rain had been gone for a week and in true Los Angeles fashion, it was eighty degrees the first week of February. The former partners watched Willie Grant slink away in her conservative black dress, still sexy on crutches, her left leg in a full brace. She got into her car without turning back.
“She might’ve been the only one in the department besides me who could stand to spend every day with you,” Hank said.
“Yep. I f****d up,” Nick said.
“And you realize she’ll never go out with me now.”
“She wouldn’t have anyway,” Nick smiled.
While Nick dealt with all of the funeral arrangements, Willie took care of clean-up in the Lowell Seward case.
The
