“Sort of. I won’t feel great until we catch the bastard.”
“If Olivia’s plan works, we, well the police, will.”
“Why do you know her well enough to call her by her first name?” Spence asked. Something he’d wanted to know since Gregg had first called her Olivia, not Detective Dean.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a crime reporter. I know a lot of the detectives by their first names.” Gregg seemed amused. “Jealous?”
“Of course not,” Spence replied emphatically. “Why would I be?”
“No reason, I guess.” Changing the subject, Gregg asked, “Where should we go to dinner tonight?”
“Like I care? Anywhere’s fine with me.”
“Good. I know just the place. I make a mean Chicken Cordon Bleu.”
“Showing off that you’re a better cook than me?” Spence asked, pouring another cup of coffee.
“Maybe?” Gregg chuckled. “Eating at my place, instead of at a restaurant, will reinforce the fact there’s something going on between us, especially when you don’t leave until morning.”