know this how ?"
"From Jenny."
" Jenny? " Hutch said.
"I ran into her about a month ago. At a play at the Godwyn Theater. We got to talking about you, Hutch, and she mentioned that Andy had called her, wanted her to read a script he'd written, see if she'd be willing to pass it on to you."
Hutch's surprise deepened. "Why Jenny?"
"He thought she might still be in touch with you."
"Or he was just using you as an excuse to call her," Matt said. "Try to see where her head was at."
Hutch frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You didn't know? Andy's had a thing for Jenny for as long as he's known her, but you kept getting in the way. And after you left, she got involved with that guy from Brooklyn—and they were together, what?"
"Over three years," Nadine said.
"Then she hooked up with that assistant D.A., and once that went south, Andy probably thought it was time to finally grow some balls and make his move."
Monica snorted. "As if. No offense, but I don't see him being Jenny material."
"I tried to tell him that," Matt said. "That she was way out his league. But you know Andy. He's always looking for some new way to humiliate himself."
This cracked everyone up, but Hutch couldn't bring himself to join in. Andy could be an overbearing snot, no doubt about it, but that was no reason to laugh at him behind his back.
Besides, there was no "league" when it came to Jenny. Yes, she was beautiful and smart and classy and successful, but she didn't have a superficial bone in her body. She'd be the last person in the world to discriminate against someone because of some intangible social or personal barrier. And in their attempt to make fun of Andy, they were disrespecting Jenny, as well.
But maybe Hutch was being overly sensitive about all this. He was just coming off of a nearly two-year stint as the butt of everyone's jokes. Two years full of knowing stares, quiet snickering and snide remarks. There was no doubt in his mind that some of the people here—and even Andy himself—had been part of it. But that didn't mean Hutch had to join in when someone else was the target.
He had inflicted enough cruelties in his life.
When they were done laughing, a harried-looking waitress finally approached their table. They all ordered the same drinks they had back in college: a pitcher of draft beer for Matt, Ronnie and Tom, a rum and Coke for Nadine, and a kamikaze for Monica.
The only one who deviated was Hutch.
As promised, he ordered a root beer.
When the waitress was gone, he said, "Okay, enough about Andy." He turned to Matt. "You're the man with all the police connections. What can you tell us about the investigation into Jenny's murder?"
Nadine groaned. "Oh, God, must we? I've done enough crying for one day. Can't we talk about the good times?"
"I just want to know how it's progressing."
Matt sobered. "It's not my story."
"Why not?" Monica asked. She had leaned back in her chair as if to accentuate her breasts, which every male in the group had long ago agreed were quite spectacular.
She had worked her way through college as a webcam stripper, baring those breasts on a private video website to anyone with enough cash to subscribe. She had never made any apologies for what she did, but to keep things civil, she'd asked her employers to block the IP addresses of the school and the house they all lived in, so that none of the guys could join in—much to their chagrin.
The last Hutch had heard, she had long retired, but was running her own web dynasty now, hiring other models to cater to the lost and lonely.
"Seems like a no brainer, to me," she said to Matt. "Jenny was a friend of yours."
"That's exactly the problem. There's conflict of interest to think about. So my editor assigned the story to another reporter."
Ronnie smiled. "You mean they still have ethics in the news business?"
"Just barely. Although you wouldn't know it if you turned on a TV."
"You might not be assigned to the story," Hutch said, "but I doubt
Heidi Hunter, Bad Boy Team