6
Rebecca and Richie agreed to meet at a small steakhouse near Castro—a halfway point between his house and her job. She might be working a murder investigation, plus the death in the arson fire, but she needed to eat dinner, and could justify having company while she did so.
The restaurant looked much like a European bistro, with exposed wooden beams, red and white checkered tablecloths, and a dark, round, wax-covered bottle holding a lit candle on each table. Richie was already at a table when she arrived. He had a bottle of red wine and two glasses in front of him.
She sat across from him. Without any preliminary words of greeting, she said, “This is very serious.”
He reached for her hand and with a grin said, “You and I? I didn’t realize how much you cared.”
She pulled her hand ba
