Collateral Damage by Austin Camacho

filled his mind a moment earlier.
    â€œHey baby,” Hannibal said. “What you doing for dinner?”
    â€œI’m making it,” she said. He could feel her smile through the ether. “Right now I’m standing in your kitchen, holding the phone with my shoulder, cooking the chicken for my arroz imperial. You feel like chicken and rice?”
    â€œLet’s see how many speed laws I can break between here and there,” Hannibal said. “Then you’ll see.”
    â€œYou done with business for the day?”
    â€œAlmost,” Hannibal said. “One more phone call to make. Believe it or not, I found Dean Edwards. He ducked out, and he thinks I don’t know where he is, but I do. I think I’ll just give Bea the boy’s location and let her go confront him herself.”

-8-
    Hannibal loved all types of food except, perhaps, that group of dishes traditionally referred to as American. And he loved to have a woman cook for him. When Cindy carried the large serving dish from the oven to the table, the smile she wore told him she knew how close to heaven she had carried him.
    Cindy was not domestic by nature. This tough-minded woman felt more at home in a courtroom than a kitchen. But every once in a while, she felt the need to release her creative side, and her preferred medium for artistic expression was the traditional dishes of her father’s homeland. And Hannibal appreciated the hours invested in this art. Tonight’s feature creation required hours of preparation, but the imperial rice was worth the effort. Hannibal had dropped his jacket, gloves and glasses, and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to dig in.
    â€œSo did you tell Bea everything you learned about her man?” Cindy asked as she settled into her chair facing Hannibal.
    Smile-inducing aromas were swimming around Hannibal’s flat: onions, garlic, peppers, scallions. Those warm homey aromas made him too happy and relaxed to want to talk business. “Well no, not everything babe. Why set her up for that kind of pain? I did my job. I found him. End of the trail. From there, it’s between them.”
    â€œWhat if he’s telling the truth? What if he really is keeping secrets because he loves her and doesn’t want her involved?”
    His fork dug into the baked layers of rice and chicken and cheese that stretched out as he lifted the food. Monterey jack,he thought, and maybe Parmesan. “Is that how it works when it’s love? If you were in trouble, would you keep it from me, babe?”
    Cindy’s answer was disrupted by a knock on the door. Actually, the knock was across the hall. Chewing slowly, Hannibal looked up at Cindy. They were quiet for a moment, then she sighed and shook her head sadly.
    â€œIf they’re at your office door at this hour, they could be in real trouble. No point pretending you don’t need to see who it is.”
    â€œBetter be life and death!” Hannibal wiped his mouth on a napkin and went out into the hall. His living room door was near the back of the building, so he walked past the basement door under the wide staircase to the other side before he could see who was standing at the front of the building, worrying his office door with their knuckles.
    â€œI can’t believe he’s gone this early,” Irma Andrews muttered, staring at the door as if she could open it with the power of her stare.
    â€œHow the hell did you find me?” Hannibal asked from the other end of the building. She jumped but recovered quickly and stalked toward him, her heels clicking like gunshots in the hallway.
    â€œBacktracked your phone number. Reporters have to be resourceful, or didn’t they tell you? And once I saw the address, I figured it must be your residence as well.”
    â€œActually, I live across the hall,” Hannibal said. “Why don’t you come in and tell me what’s so important you came all the way into