Okay but he has a case for you," she said again, her voice singsong.

"Don't care."

"It's right up your alley. There's been a rash of suicide notes."

"That's not right up my alley. That's, like, two blocks over from my alley.

I was busy perusing the suicide notes and waiting for Belvedere's water to finish its treatment when I heard a thud from Cookie's office. Then a mousy squeak. The a throaty moan.

"Cookie," I said, wiggling my fingers at Belvedere to get him acquainted to with our strange ways, "are you masturbating?"

"No, I got a paper cut."

Oh, I didn't see that coming.

Did you look at the memo?”
“What memo? We’re getting memos now?”
“I sent a memo a week ago. I’ve been sending you a memo every week with a list of all the updates and my notes on all our cases for weeks now.”
Holy cow. Missed the boat on that one. “Oh, those memos. I totally knew that.”
“You’re not even reading them, are you?”
“I thought they were optional.”
Note to self: Stop making paper airplanes out of Cookie’s memos.

Well?” she asked when she picked up.
“Do you think we’re really alone in the universe?”
“Were you abducted by aliens again?”
“No, thank goodness. Once was enough for me.”
“Oh, whew. So, what happened with Reyes? Did you see him?”
“Saw him. Argued with him. Barfed.

Cookie saw him, too. "Holy mother of all things sexy," she said, her eyes drinking him in.
"Right there with ya.

You know how you heal really fast?” I stood and walked to the doorway that separated our offices. “Yes,” I answered, wondering where she was going with this. She was sucking the side of her index finger. “Maybe if you lick my cut, your spit will heal me fast, too.” “Dude,” I said, tamping down a giggle, “I’m not licking your cut.” “Just lick me.” She held out her finger. “This is going to be tender for days.” “I’m not licking you.” A line I rarely said aloud.