“Nope.”

“What are you waiting for?” she nearly shouted and if she’d reached across the counter and grabbed me by my shirt and shook me, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

I took Marianne’s mind off Lee with a mocha, heavy on the chocolate syrup and whipped cream.

After Marianne left, making me promise to phone her the minute I did it with Lee and give her all the details (not gonna happen), I called Hank.

I did this because I thought maybe Rosie might do something stupid, like hock the diamonds and go to San Salvador. According to him, he was owed fifty dollars for some of the “primo” grass I never knew that he grew in his basement and the guy gave him a gazillion dollars worth of diamonds.

That was seriously fishy and Rosie was seriously stupid for taking the damn things.

Though, what did one do when presented with a fortune of diamonds? Say no?

I didn’t actually blame Rosie for wanting to cash in his windfall and skip town.

Personally, I wouldn’t have picked San Salvador though.

If Rosie successfully skipped, and Lee was right in what he said last night, this meant that Rosie would be in San Salvador and there was a good possibility that either Lee or I or both of us would be target practice (I really shouldn’t have mouthed off to those guys and I was in whole-hearted agreement with Lee, I’m sure he’d been shot at tons of times and if he didn’t like it, I’d never like it).

This would also mean I owed Lee big time for putting his life in danger. Not to mention my life would be in danger and I’d have a hard time talking myself out of ha**ng s*x with Lee (at least once) before I died.

Further, I’d never replace Rosie at the espresso machine. He had a God-given talent, no joke. He was the Picasso of Coffee.

The first thing Hank said, “I hear you’ve finally hooked up with Lee.”

Shit.

Kitty Sue, the fastest dialing fingers in the West.

Something had to be done.

“Not exactly,” I responded.

“Yeah, takin’ it slow.”

“Something like that.” Really slow. Snail-with-a-hernia slow. “Listen, can I talk to you about something?”

“Anything.”

“Can you step out of your cop shoes for five minutes?”

Silence.

Hank wasn’t very fond of me asking that question, which I did, over the years, a lot.

“Shit. You and Ally haven’t stolen candy from Walgreen’s again, have you?”

“We didn’t steal it! We were just buying a bunch and didn’t know what we could carry so we started putting it in our pockets early to see how much we could pack in.”

“They have bags at Walgreen’s, you know.”

“Those plastic bags clog the landfills and choke the environment.”

Or something.

“Jesus, a politically-correct Indy. God save us.”

“Smartass,” I said on a smile.

“What did you wanna talk about?”

Big breath.

“How would I go about finding a missing person?”

Hank became all business, I couldn’t see him but I heard it, for sure.

“Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.” Well, Hank did know Rosie but only to buy coffee from when he came to Fortnum’s.

“How long have they been missing?”

I tried to calculate it. “About ten hours.”

“Sorry, Indy. Not missing yet.”

“What if they actually are?”

“Who is it?” he repeated.

“An employee of mine, he’s a steady guy.” That was a lie, Rosie was anything but steady. But Rosie never missed a chance to make coffee. He worked seven days a week and never complained. “He didn’t show up for work today, his name is Ambrose Coltrane.”

Best not use his alias, just in case Lee called in a favor.

“The same Ambrose Coltrane that Lee’s lookin’ for?”

Say what?

“Lee only knows him as Rosie!”

Hesitation.

“Lee has ways.”

Grr.

Everybody was always saying this. Lee had ways of getting into girls’ panties. Lee had ways of getting parts for his car when he didn’t have a job. Lee had ways of finding choice parking spots wherever he went. Lee had ways of getting out of being grounded on average one hour after the grounding (when Ally and I would usually have to do the whole week or month or whatever our transgression had bought).

Hank didn’t read my frustration.

“Starting with his PI databases. He can tap into a lot of things. Lee called in a couple hours ago. Asked me to let him know if Coltrane surfaces. He doin’ this favor for you?”

Pause for answer.

I kept my mouth shut.

“What’s goin’ on?” Hank was losing his good-natured, business-like voice and was lapsing into his stern-older-brother voice. “Why are you and Lee looking for the same guy?”

Rule Number One in the India Savage Life Code: When in doubt or possible trouble, lie.

“Don’t know. Listen, Hank, can you call me first if you hear anything about Rosie? And then forget about it for about an hour or two or twenty before calling Lee?”

“Not if you don’t tell me what this is about.”

Like brother, like brother. Stubborn to the last.

“Forget it. See you Saturday at Dad’s barbeque.”

“You comin’ with Lee?’

“No, I’m not coming with Lee. I’m pretty sure we’ll be broken up by then. Later.”

I hung up and opened the phone book on my cell. I scrolled down to Lee, took a big breath and punched the button that would call Lee, a button I’d never punched before in my life.

He answered after one ring. “Yeah?”

“Lee? It’s Indy.”

A customer walked up and asked for a double espresso and I gave him a one minute finger and Jane started banging the portafilter against the sink to loosen the last pot of grounds.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Fortnum’s.”

“I thought I told you to stay at the condo.”

As if I ever did what I was told.

“I have a business and I’m down two employees. I had to come to work.”

“Less than twenty-four hours ago, people were shootin’ at you.”

Hmm, he sounded pissed off.