12
What are you planning to do?” Richie asked when they arrived back in San Francisco.
Rebecca pulled up alongside his Porsche. “Go to my crime scene,” she replied.
“I know, but afterward … Listen, don’t go doing anything about the Larkin case, okay? It’s too dangerous.”
“So I’ve been told,” she said. “Even by crazy gypsies selling flowers.”
“Promise?” Richie asked, getting out of the Beemer.
“Don’t worry. I’m on top of it.” His protectiveness was getting on her nerves.
“That’s the problem. Leave it to Shay, Rebecca.”
“Sure thing, boss.” With that, she glanced in the rearview mirror as she drove off. He stood and watched her go, a troubled look on his face.
The crime scene was a hit and run. An old man had been jay-walking across Mission when he got nailed. There were security cam
