DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
"So, I talked to the older Guererro brother today," Cindy said brightly, perching herself on the corner of Lindsay's desk.
"Whoa, back up," Lindsay ordered, crinkling her nose up, a move that Cindy seemed to interpret as anger.
"Lindsay, I already told you that there was no danger in it," she protested. Lindsay shook her head.
"No, I mean really back up. Your breath could be considered a deadly toxin right now," she said. Cindy frowned and put her hand to her mouth in an attempt to see for herself. She grimaced.
"Do you have any gum?"
"Do I look like I would have gum?" Lindsay countered, giving her one of those "you're stupid" looks. At Cindy's pout, she sighed and flung her desk drawer open. "Let me see what I can find." Five minutes later, Lindsay whipped a tiny red and white blob wrapped in a plastic wrapper from a dusty box of forgotten condiments out of the back of her middle desk drawer. She tossed it to Cindy triumphantly.
"Ew, Lindsay, this is gross," Cindy told her, looking at it in disgust.
"It's fine," Lindsay insisted. Cindy raised an eyebrow.
"It's squishy " She handed it back to Lindsay, who after some inspection decided to throw it in the trash. "How long have you had that thing?"
"Probably since 1987. You would have been what? Negative twelve?" Lindsay joked. Cindy glared.
"I was five, thank you. Which means you were probably just celebrating the anniversary of your tour in Nam, right?" she shot back. Cindy smirked when Lindsay's mouth snapped shut and the inspector looked at her bitterly, unable to come up with a reply.
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